


Sparks

by Se7en_devils



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe, And Lots of It, BAMF Uhura, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, Cadet!Kirk, Christmas, Explicit Language, F/F, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hot Chocolate, Humor, M/M, Mistletoe, Professor!Spock, Sexual Content, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Se7en_devils/pseuds/Se7en_devils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk would later swear it started as a bet, Spock would later swear it started as a bad pick-up line; in truth neither was exactly wrong, but neither was exactly right either.  It started as a spark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of a Bet

**Author's Note:**

> It's still in the week Christmas week...right? So I'm good...kinda? As long as the first chapter is posted within a couple days, right? Even though this thing is multiple chapters, half of which I haven't even finished yet? Oops... Oh well, enjoy and know that the next chapter will be up soon...ish. Before the New Year? Maybe...

“I hate you.”

Leonard let out a puff of disgruntled air, his eyes sliding to the side in more than mild irritation.  Winter was supposed to be pretty and beautiful and nice, wasn’t it?  All serene landscapes and quite snowfall and peaceful shit.  

Or maybe that really was how winter was - in every place other than motherfucking San Francisco.  The San Francisco where freezing rain fell, temperatures dropped, winds howled, and not a single fucking inch of it was pretty.  Or serene, for that matter.  It was all white walls of opaque ice and water and slippery wet sidewalks and other not-so-pretty conditions which could have easily killed a man.  

No one had been prepared, it was San Francisco for fuck's sake - or at least that had been Bones’ overly vocal opinion, yelled just as he had been in the process of throwing a heavy coat at an ill-prepared Jim.  Jim couldn’t have disagreed, not with the constantly chattering teeth and heavy coats that didn’t seem to be heavy enough.  The mismatched gloves and old knit beanies and fuzzy parkas, the occasional thing for the occasional mildly cold winter – but nothing for this.  Nothing for the sound of roaring, howling winds clashing against metallic roofs and pushing against concrete buildings.  Nothing for twelve hours and already half a foot of ice, the worst San Francisco had seen in decades.

“Pshhh,” But none of that seemed to have anything on James T. Kirk, self-proclaimed badass of the Academy (the fact that he was even more commonly known as the academy’s resident pain in the ass was usually not mentioned.  Not by his own admission, at least).  The blonde waved a hand of dismissal, even going so far as to give a doubtful tilt of the head.  Well, at least Bones knew he hadn’t gone unheard. “Don’t be so dramatic.  Things could be a lot worse.”

But that was the only plus, that Jim had actually heard him, because what the hell kind of response was that?  Not a very good one, if the graceless and undignified sputter Bones let out said anything.  Or the way he forced Jim into a stop by grabbing at his sleeve.  “Worse?   _Worse?!_  Than this?  Have you not been paying attention to the announcements for the past two days or are you just plain deaf?  How could this possibly be any worse?!  Its a little over a week from Christmas and for the first time in goddamn decades – decades, Jim! – it’s storming.  And not only is it storming, it’s raining _and_ freezing _and_ icy _and_ they’re calling it a fucking ice storm.  Half of the goddamned city is stuck here, including me.  And guess what?  It’s all,” He jabbed a finger into Jim’s chest. “Because,” The same finger was jabbed back into Jim’s chest.  Again, “Of,” And again, “You,” And again.  “Motherfucking you,” His roommate emphasized with a growl.  His lips were down-turned in his typical expression of frustration, something that would’ve made Jim snicker if he hadn’t been legitimately afraid of Bones shanking him.  “Y’know, Momma McCoy-” And that time Jim really did snicker, because not even the fear of death could overpower an alliteration like _Momma McCoy_.  “Don’t you snicker at me, it’s country etiquette.  Momma McCoy was really lookin’ forward to see me, but now that can’t happen because god forbid should you _ever_ set an alar-”

“Y’know, you seem to be forgetting that you overslept too,” Jim pointed out, his arms briefly raised in his defense before he decided they would be better served shoved in the warmth of his pockets.  Slowly, he started walking down the concrete path again, making sure to stay under the overhanging roof of the dorm building.  “So really,” He reasonably drawled, “I fail to see how this is all _my_ fault.”

“It’s your fault, you corn-fed, farm-raised imbecile, because you promised you’d wake me up.  You promised you’d give me a ride.  And you promised you wouldn’t forget and I believed you!” Shit.  Jim cringed; his voice was borderline yelling.  Not good. “But _no,_ you just had to make me miss my shuttle.  And what I called them, what do they tell me?”

“Bones,” Kirk sighed, clearly tired of hearing it.  Southerners; they never were great with the whole shutting up thing, were they? “I know what they told you, I was there.  I heard you screaming at that poor clerk and everything.”

“Yeah?” Bones asked as if he actually cared.  Which was actually kinda funny, considering they both knew he had ran out of fucks to give a long, long, _long_ time ago.  “Well that’s just too bad.  Because I’m still stuck here and I’m still stuck _with_ you and it’s still all because of you.  I could be in Georgia right now, Jim - Georgia.  The same Georgia that has a high of seventy-one degrees right now, let me remind you.  But I’m not in Georgia, now am I?  Nope.  I’m here, which means if I want to bitch about it then goddamnit, I will bitch about it,” He paused for drama - and to smack Jim upside the back of the head, but that was merely peripheral detail.  It was mostly for the drama.  “Because y’know what that ‘poor’ clerk told me?”

“Yes, I do, actu-”

“That was a rhetorical question,” Bones sharply said, “Now shut up.  They told me that all their shuttles were booked full ‘cause of a massive storm comin’ through and that startin’ Thursday they’d be shut down anyways.  Isn’t that great?  A whole week without transport, if we’re lucky.” He huffed when Jim didn’t give a response.  Or more appropriately, an apology in the form of bourbon and a fantastic Pecan Pie.  “It could be up to two weeks, they said.  Then it’ll be the New Year Jim - the _motherfucking New Year!”_ He turned to Jim and again waited for a response.  An apology or an excuse or _something._ But nothing came, so McCoy gladly filled the gap.  “I asked you for one thing, Jim – one damned thing and you said sure – I should’a asked Uhura, but I didn’t.  I should’a asked Christine or Gary or, hell, even Gaila, but I didn’t and now look where I am.”

Jim huffed.  He forced himself to stay focused ( _Get out of the cold, into the dorm.  Out of the cold, into the dorm.  Out of the cold, into the dorm)_ , especially when his breath puffed out in front of him in solid white wisps.  Even though, he had to seriously admit that the way Bones’ face was beginning to match his blood red earmuffs was kinda funny.  And distracting.   _Anyways,_ “Oh, come on, Bones!  I’m not a psychic, y’know?  Can’t see the future; can’t tell you that, hey, for the first time in decades we’re gonna be hit by a massive snowstorm!  Or icestorm!  Or...or whatever!”

“That,” McCoy grit out through clenched teeth, his stare borderline murderous, “Is not the point.  The point is that you are completely unreliable.  It’s bad enough that Jocelyn wouldn’t let me see Jo, but this would have been the first chance since getting to this hellhole that I would’ve had to go to back Georgia and now I can’t… Because of you-”

“Yeah, I know.  You’ve made your thoughts pretty clear on that one.”

McCoy sent him a glare that made the others pale in comparison.  “Shut.  Up.”  He let out a breath of air, the sound less frustrated than it was downright _angry,_ “Mamma McCoy-” Again, with the snickers.  “Will be righteous.  She’ll be furious –  hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn, y’know?”

“You’re overreacting – like usual.  San Francisco isn’t _that_ bad.”

But Bones wasn’t listening, or if he was he wasn’t acting like it.  “She’ll give me the look.  That _I’m-disappointed-in-you-look,_ the last time she gave me that was when I had to tell her me and Jocelyn were getting a divorce.”

Jim groaned; he’d be hearing about this for days.   _Days_.  “C’mon, Bones!   Look at it, isn’t it pretty?  I mean, how often does it actually feel like winter in San Francisco?  Never!  That’s how often.  It’s-a-once-in-lifetime thing. You should be taking this in.”

“Taking it in?” He turned to Jim, who immediately shrunk in on himself, “ _Taking it in?!_  It’s all this damn stuff, this insufferable cold that’s causing all these problems! It’s all this fucking ice!  It’s too cold; everyone’s gone and nothing’s open.  And it doesn’t even have the fucking decency to give us a good snow, either.”

“Well,” Jim began as they slipped past the door which separated cold winter winds and icy pathways from the relatively warm and dry confines of their residence hall.  Immediately the blonde began stripping off his gloves and hat and coat, shaking out shards of slushy ice and melting snow.  “That’s just because Californians are pansies.  It’s only half an inch.”

“In twelve hours.”

Jim considered the grumpy correction, before finally just settling on a nice, manly punch to his best friend’s shoulder.  “Touché.”

“I don’t think you understand just how much I despise you right now,” Bones emphatically waved as he lead them to their room.  Thank god it was on the first floor.  “There isn’t a goddamned soul in sight!”

Kirk paused, looking around the dark corridor Bones was gesturing towards in example.   _Touché.  (_ Again).  His blue eyes wandered, his lips still in favor of leaning on the wall beside the door to their dorm and giving his roommate a cheeky grin, “At least we have each other.”

Which wasn’t a smart thing to say, because the glare Jim earned in response was not comforting.  “Fuck.  Off.” Then again, neither was the sound of a door being slammed in front of his face.  The door to his dorm. The _locked_ door to his dorm.  The _locked_ door to his dorm with a key card Jim had lost, like, months ago.

Seriously?

Not cool.

“Bones!  C’mon, Bones!  It was a mistake, you can’t just leave me out here!” Jim banged on the glass, cheek pressed up against the cold surface.  He peered through the frosted window, attempted to make a slightly deranged face in the square of blurry glass (his mother had always said laughter was the best medicine), even tried plastering his body to the door – because that seemed like a really productive thing to do at the time - but nothing.  Fuck.  “C’mon, man, this is unethical y’know?!”  Why couldn’t dorms be like the rest of the academy?  Just a six-digit code and you’re in?  Oh, that’s right!  Extra security.  “Bones!  This isn’t right…Bones!”  Well, fuck extra security.  “Bones!”

Jim swore he heard a door slamming within their room and then the distinct yet faint sound of a sonic shower being turned on.  The hum of the sonic shower continued, but besides that…nothing.

Silence.

Well, wasn’t that just fan-fucking-tastic?

 

* * *

 

It was a commonly known fact among almost every single student, teacher, and counselor - no, scratch that, every single person in the goddamned San Francisco area - that James T. kirk was a narcissistic asshole.  It was only slightly less known that Leonard McCoy wasn’t much better, which was probably why, when they had gone out to see the storm for themselves, that neither of them had had the good graces or forethought to check for anyone else stranded on campus.  Oops.  It was also probably why Kirk had ended up standing in front of Language and Communications Department an hour later, but only after an entire slew of roundabout wondering and running from building to building as quickly as possible.  It had started with a simple, innocent, little sifting through the Science Labs (because those fuckers never left their precious labs - except on winter break it seemed) spurred on by the fact that it was closest building to Kirk’s residence hall.  Except when he got there; no one.  Or at least not in sight.

His second stop was to the Engineering Department (because those motherfuckers _almost_ never left, and only occasionally went to bars, usually to celebrate a breakthrough – except on Winter break it also seemed), and his third was the Computer Science Labs (because surely if anyone would be skipping out on the holiday festivities it’d be the computer whizzes – the guys who were smart enough to break and manipulate Klingon code into whatever the hell they wanted, but not smart enough to figure out that ovaries wasn’t what made a person an alien – except they weren’t there either).  They were all empty, not a soul in sight, and so with having already walked half the campus and the beginnings of a faint numbness in the tips of his fingers, he decided to try the Communications Department.

His chances were fifty-fifty on whether anyone would be there, he had figured while walking from the Computer Science Department.  It wasn’t as if communications majors were any less obsessive or dedicated or caffeine addicted than Science and Engineering and Computer Science majors - because God knew that the sleeping bags and blankets and pillows they had stashed in every single goddamned language lab was proof enough to the contrary - but they were a lot more sentimental.  The gigantic stashes of actual, non-replicated Hot Chocolate and marshmallows they kept next to the sleeping bags was kinda giveway on that one.  Vulcan could have been sending out distress signals left and right and Romulans could have been threatening to blow Terra sky-high and the Federation could have been calling an intergalactic emergency and there still may not have been a single Communications kid in sight.

 _Sleeping bags and blankets.  Sleeping bags and blankets,_ Jim reminded himself as he tapped his student I.D into the keypad next to the door, yelping as he hopped into the building the seconds those damn doors opened.  Shit it was cold.  Fucking cold as Russia…and other really cold places Kirk couldn’t quite think of at that time.

The doors _whooshed_ shut behind him.  He couldn’t help but shiver as wisps of ice crystals, no longer carried by a current, fell to the ground around Jim’s wet boots.  Cold winds beat against the walls, howling their displeasure with angry cries.  The lights of the hallway flickered on in staggered sweeps just as Kirk began knocking his boots off on the floor and a wave of warmth hit him almost immediately.

Well, if nothing else, at least there was heat.

And actual people, Kirk later found.  Or more of one, single person.  Or more of a cadet, who might or might not have been human because they might or might not have been lacking in the whole ‘soul’ department; Kirk bet they were.  Lacking that was, but his opinion was skewed, probably by the fact that said person wasn’t afraid to drop-kick his ass into next year.  In other words, it was Uhura.  Of course, it took, like, ten fucking minutes of scourging through the first five Language Labs just to get two stubbed toes, and a banged head before he actually figured out he wasn’t alone, but it was kinda better than nothing.

Kinda.

If nothing else it was better than a bitchy Bones.

“Hey there, gorgeous.”

A groan, “Oh god.”

“Y’know, I was wondering, you wouldn’t happen to have a picture of yourself on hand, would you?  I wanted to show Santa what I want for Christmas.”  Because that totally wasn’t the worst one-liner ever, and the grin he gave totally wasn’t the biggest shit-eating grin ever, either.  And the way he was leaning against the doorway of the Lab, arm slung above his head like he was from one of those horrific movies from the 1960s, wasn’t douchey looking _at all_.  The winking wasn’t really helping either, but that was another matter.  Jim’s grin widened when he saw the massive piles of blankets and sleeping bags and pillows stacked around Uhura and boxes of instant Hot Chocolate (See?  Sentimental) and stacks of clean coffee mugs and bottles of wine (okay, a little less sentimental).  It was an entire department worth, Jim would later swear, scavenged from every corner of every accessible lab and office.

Apparently, not all rumors were wrong.

“Jesus Christ,” A huff was a given along with a half playful, half very serious roll of the eyes, “Of all the people…? Shouldn’t you be fucking farm animals in Idaho?”

“Iowa,” Kirk corrected as if it mattered.  Which it didn’t, and judging by his grin, he knew it too.  “They’re totally different.”  He sounded disinterested though, probably a result of the way his eyes were earnestly roaming the lab around him.  It was set up exactly like every other one in the building, with the entire thing being built on two levels where one formed a ring around the other.  The top level was the outer level, complete with computers and desks and monitors and headsets and anything a Communications major might need to do their job, while the other level – separated by a small, two foot drop and metal railing – was left empty for a projectable map used for tracking transmissions.

“Same difference, really,” Uhura lazily dismissed, her sudden reply causing Kirk’s eyes to dart back to her.  She was sitting against the ledge separating the two levels, back pressed firmly against the walls and hands busy holding a ceramic mug in her criss-crossed lap.

Without a second thought to poise or grace (neither of which Jim had ever really had to begin with anyways) Jim hopped over the railing, loving the way Uhura rolled her eyes.  It was cute how she actually acted as if she cared.  

"What are you...?" She skeptically began when Kirk began unzipping his coat, "Hey!" She briskly asserted.  "I don't wanna see you and your...y'know."  She made a sort of distasteful face and waved to Kirk.  Most particularly his body.  And face.  And, well, all of him.

Kirk simply chuckled, half tempted to tell her that she should be thanking him; he didn't do stripteases for just anyone.  But then he really figured that he quite liked his testicles where they were and didn't need Uhura changing that.  "Relax, it's just the coat," He assured her, gesturing to the giant, halfway soaked parka that he had just hung over the metal railing to dry.   Underneath he had a wool pullover, which thankfully was still dry.  The same couldn't have been said for his hat and gloves, which he immediately started stringing along the railing next to the coat.  

Uhura made a noise in the back of her throat which sounded distinctly annoyed, "Is stupid a general thing among Idahoans or is that just you?"

Until then - or at least during the duration of decorating the metal railing with his soaking clothing - Jim had actually been pretty proud of his aptness in ignoring Uhura, who had been shielding her eyes as if his ugliness was literally damaging her corneas.  Of course, Jim would’ve argued it was his beauty doing all the damaging, but it was all rather moot by the time he gave her a sharp look which might've been feigned but also might not have.  "Iowa."

But his fellow cadet merely waved him off, "I already told you; same difference."

Kirk rolled his eyes, but figured it didn’t really matter anyways by the time he was able to plop down against the ledge, right next to Uhura.  “I guess,” He conceded, distinctly more concerned about the spreading of two bunched up blankets across his lap than with the actual defending of his beautiful (desolate, ugly, kinda worthless, slightly traumatic) Iowa.   _How loyal,_ Uhura sarcastically thought when, before she had even had the chance to catch him, the cadet had already made himself at home – with his clothes sprawled over the railing and the way he leaned back against the wall like it was his own dorm, the way he grinned and the way he even plucked the mug of Hot Chocolate from her thin hands.  Of course, in the end he scrunched his nose after taking a taste anyways; apparently he hadn’t quite expected the alcoholic punch that came with it.

“It’s rum,” Uhura helpfully provided before taking the mug outfitted with swirling quarter and eight notes and haphazardly swooping staffs back, “If you want some then you’ll have to ask Gaila when she gets back.”

Jim shook his head and reached for a random mug among the stacks centered in the middle of the room.  Briefly, he wondered who all's dorms they had to raid to get so many coffee cups - enough for about six stacks of three - before realizing how similar that might have sounded to complaining. Never look a gift horse in the mouth - rule number one of surviving life with Uhura as a best friend.  "Thanks, but no thanks,”  He decided to say instead.  He briskly grabbed a bottle of wine by the neck, taking the cork out with his teeth before filling up his new ceramic cup halfway.

“Classy, Kirk.”

Jim snorted as he sipped at the wine, because fuck yes, he was a classy motherfucker.  Just about as classy as the cup he was drinking from, which read in big, black, bolded letters _Eat. Sleep. Fuck._ Classy as fuck; forever and always. “Yep.  It’s what I do when I’m not fucking farm animals; drink fine wine from a coffee cup.”

“No wonder all the girls go crazy for you.”

“Hey, now, don’t be so persnickety Miss Shouldn’t-you-be-doing-tribal-dances-in-Nigeria.”

Nyota looked to the side at him and...shit.  She looked as if she were a little more than slightly ruffled, that way she got when she was feeling particularly defensive; oops.  The only saving grace was that she definitely had to force a visible smirk down when she less than playfully pushed at Jim’s shoulder.  It didn’t contribute to the glare or the total I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass vibe, but still – ruffled. “Kenya.”

“Same difference.”

Another huff.  Which really, was that a trademark of hers or something?  Because if not, then it should’ve been. “Touché.”

“Oh, come on,” He grinned at the irritated look he had earning himself and clicked their mugs together with an audible sound, “Stop pretending."

Uhura sighed and pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead.  "I haven't even asked and I'm already regretting it, but," She turned to Jim, "Stop pretending what?"

“Why..." Her companion’s grin turned absolutely wolfish and already Uhura could feel her regret in the pit of her stomach, “That you're not in love with me,  of course, because you totally are.  Fits the whole girl-hates-boy, boy’s-an-insufferable-asshole, girl-falls-in-love-with-boy stereotype to a ‘T’.” He kissed the tips of his fingers, as if the entire idea was the epitome of French perfection.  Which it wasn’t.

“I hate stereotypes,” Uhura gave in retort as she crossed her arms over her chest and mock glared.  It was all thinly veiled, though, and they both knew it.

“Well," He conceded with mischievous smirk, "That's when the lesbian love affair plot twist comes in.  Gaila would make a fine supporting character, don't ya think?"

“Except I'm not really a lesbian."

“But," Kirk said in a way that suggested whatever was about to come out of his mouth wasn't going to be anything tactful.  Or even remotely non-offensive.  "You are dating a chick, which technically makes you a temporary lesbian."

“Or, y'know, I'm pansexual.  Because believe it or not that's actually a thing."

Kirk thought about it, but when he turned to Uhura his expression was as childish as ever.  "I like the sound of temporary lesbian a lot better."

She exhaled a heavy breath of air and shook her head.  "Its a good thing you're not actually as ignorant as you sound."

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” He said with a shrug and a smirk, “You know us simple farm folk.  oh please, don’t look at me like that,” He said when Uhura crinkled her nose in distaste,  “You totally love me.  Granted, what’s not to love, but my point still stands.”

“I’m seriously tempted to kick you out of here.”

“You wouldn’t dare submit me to the danger of hypothermia, would you?  I mean, I thought we were real biffles… And seriously, how many times do I have to ask to stop looking at me like that?  It’s seriously disconcerting,” He quickly added as Uhura’s expression turned doubtful.  Pursed lips, crinkled brow, raised eyebrow, “Look at us, we’re drinking buddies,”  He lifted his coffee mug in example, “Dedicated members of the Xenolinguistics club, avid watchers of Sleepless in Seattle, glorious listeners of Celine Dion – don’t deny it, we’re practically married.”  Of course, what Jim really meant was _you wouldn’t dare submit me to hypothermia when I’m giving you my best puppy dog eyes and boyish pout, would you?,_ because nothing Jim ever said was really what he meant.

“You have a dorm room.”

Apparently, she would do all of that.  And probably rightfully so.

“Which I’ve been effectively locked out of.  Here’s a hint, never make your Southern roommate miss Christmas with their Momma.  They get pissy.”

Uhura snorted – _typical Kirk -_ before raising her own mug to her lips.  Damn, she sure did like that Rum.  “Try having a dorm with no electricity.  Gaila’s been trying to fix it for hours, but I haven’t heard anything.”

“The joys of having a girlfriend in engineering, am I right?” He gave his best boyish grin and clinked their coffee mugs together in a toast that Uhura didn’t seem exactly thrilled in joining.  “Speaking of which, how does _this_ place - out of fucking everything - have electricity, but the dorms don’t?  Sounds like shitty wiring to me.”

“Gaila,” Uhura simply stated, as if that said it all.  Which it kinda did.  “She was able to get to the wiring before it went out, or something like it.  She explained it, but it went completely over my head.” She took another drink before checking her comm.

“So we have electricity; that’s a plus.”

“And alcohol; that’s a major plus.”

Kirk inclined his head in agreement, before refilling his mug.  “And Hot Chocolate.  Non-replicated too.”

“We even have heating.”  Nyota pursed her lips and made a considering sort of expression, “And Apple Cider.”

“Apple Cider?” Jim turned to Uhura with his head cocked to the side, interest suddenly piqued.

“It’s mixed in with the packets of Hot Chocolate.”

“Well,” Jim grinned and took a healthy, almost dramatic swig, motions perfectly in synch with his newly dubbed drinking buddy, “I know I for one feel like a Queen.”

Uhura giggled despite herself and...yeah, it reminded her of a time not that long ago - two years maybe, and dear god how much they had changed - that one time in that one bar.  When she had snickered behind the confines of her palm at the out of place hick in the out of place town at the out of place bar all in the out of place desert.  Except Uhura imagined she had looked a lot more attractive then, being single and all made up and two years younger and well, not in the throes of snorting up Hot Chocolate. Which was completely disgusting.  And totally not attractive.  And kinda burned because of what she was pretty sure was the rum.

“On the second level there’s this break room,” She began, trying and mostly succeeding in separating her tone from the fact that she might or might not have been in the process of wiping Hot Chocolate from her upper lip.  She didn’t mention it and neither did Jim, because James Tiberius Kirk was asshole but even he wasn’t _that_ much of an asshole. “Has an old-fashioned coffee pot and microwave and everything.  Has a replicator too, but that’s nothing special.”

“Oooh,” Her companion cooed with mock enthusiasm, “Vintage.  I love it.”

Uhura ignored him.  It was natural by this point, the unspoken rule of dealing with a Kirk even; ignore it and maybe it’ll go away.  Of course, it was only _after_ months of dealing with him (i.e him stalking her, following her, watching her, joining the same organizations as her, and ultimately trying to sleep with her.  And every other girl in a five mile radius) that she realized this, but some things were better than nothing. “We have Ramen too.  And Pho.  All legit…ish.  You can thank Gaila for that.  It took five hours of searching through Chinatown and every Ghetto in the area to find it.”

Jim gave a little laugh, because he could just imagine it - a frighteningly seductive green chick with natural Orion pheromones and her bad-ass multi-lingual girlfriend in a ghetto - and it was just as fucking hilarious as it sounded.  “My, my,” He took a healthy swig, still chuckling as he did so, “Aren’t we lucky ducks?”

Uhura threw him a doubtful look, all capitalized by the finger that was tapping against her ceramic mug.  “Wow.  A queen _and_ a lucky duck.  I’m impressed.”

“Bitch,” And if Uhura hadn’t seen it with her own eyes or if she hadn’t actually known Kirk, she wouldn’t have believed it (would’ve called it rumor or fantasy or bullshit), when he flicked his wrist and did his very best impression of a hair flip, “I’m James T. Kirk, I can be whatever the hell I want.”

She snorted, finding humor despite herself, and couldn’t help but look up through her lashes. “And _that’s_ how you pick up girls?” Of course what she was really saying was _I can’t believe you, of all dorks, managed to become the academy’s resident man-whore,_ but that was a different story entirely.  One that involved Bourbon, Vodka, Gary Mitchell and several ( _many)_ parties that were probably best left forgotten.

Kirk snickered in response, though whether that was because Uhura really was right and for someone like him he really was one hell of a major dork or if it was because of all those memories related to the several ( _many)_ parties that were best forgotten, remained to be seen. Uhura wasn’t quite sure, but figured she didn’t want to know anyways.  So instead she just shook her head and flicked her eyes upwards, “Sometimes I can’t believe you.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe myself either,” And when Uhura gave him a sidelong look of concern he simply shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.  Even though it kinda was - a big deal that probably deserved years of therapy and several psychologists.  Or whiskey, because whiskey was always a great alternative and Bones was never wrong in that aspect.  “It comes with the territory of being a Kirk.”

“I really hope you don’t use that to pick up girls.   _Seriously.”_

Jim made a face, “Sometimes.  Depends on how drunk they are,” He paused to think, “…And how drunk I am. And how drunk my wingman is.  It’s all rather subjective, really.”

“I can tell.”

“Not anything you would understand; wild parties, binge drinking, having fun, living life on the edge and all that,” Jim said as if it was only natural, the way he gestured with his hand and drank wine from his mug.

Uhura merely snorted.  But this time it was less so with humor and more so with disbelief, “I love how you always forget that we met in a bar.”

“Well, in that case,” Jim exclaimed with a suspicious amount of grandiose as he pushed the blanket from his lap, being careful not to knock over anything as he gave a grin that was so cocky it was concerning and came to a somewhat shaky stand.  He almost fell over. Twice. “I propose a toast to Cadet Uhura, the wild child.  The girl whose name I still don’t really know, and the current holder of half the academy’s Wine and Hot Chocolate.  You live life on the edge, because nothing quite says reckless abandonment like being the Vice Presidentress of the Chorale Ensemble - I’d marry you if I weren’t a raging Commitment-phobe.”

Their mugs clicked together, and that time when they did Uhura was far more inclined to join.  She was chuckling, which had to count for something.  Even if her chuckling was accompanied by head shaking and a look that screamed _you’re an idiot,_ she was still chuckling.  Mostly because Jim was a distinctly, hesitantly loveable idiot, but still an idiot.  Liquid sloshed a little from each of their cups, but that was okay, as blue eyes twinkled at brown and a grin wider than any of the others was given.  A wink was even thrown in there somewhere, because – hello -  this was Jim and - hello - this was Uhura, who was – hello -  a pretty girl so – hello – winking was a natural byproduct.  Of course, that just made Uhura laugh all the more, but the more the merrier, right?

“Wait…” She said, finger poised for Jim to stop.  “Wait, wait, wait,” She even tried to sound serious, poised with pursed lips and straight posture as she waved Jim’s own laughter away and criss crossed her legs into a pretzel.  The musical mug was balanced on her knee, fingers lightly splaying across its lip. “It’s only right that this should go two ways.  So, in response, I propose a toast of my own to you, to the man whose name I know but wish I didn’t, who I wouldn’t marry even if you were the last person left on Earth, in-”

“In the name of the Kirk, the Jim, and the Holy twinkledouche – fucker of farm animals and Treasurer of the Xenolinguistics club - may God help us all.”

They hadn’t heard the doors open, not above the sound of clinking ceramics and contagious laughter, but that was okay.  Kirk’s eyes flicked up, his lips splitting into a grin before he even saw the green-curved figure in the doorway, “Oh please, like you’re any better.”  The entire thing was grandiose gestures and illustrious looks, as if Jim was _trying_ to make the twinkledouche thing stick.  Knowing him, he probably was.  “You’ll be the death of us all one day.”

“Only if it’s death by orgasm,” She winked from where she was splayed and lounged, hips jutted and arms rose above her head, hands clutching at the metallic frame and toned legs crossed to extenuate.  It was a pose which screamed Gaila through and through.

Jim grinned, every ounce of lecherous mischievousness he ever possessed coming through in sharp waves.“That can always be arranged.”

“Don’t even think about it, Kirk,” Uhura defensively said, a feigned look of wary irritation coming across her features.  The only reason it was feigned was because (again) not even Kirk was _that_ much of an asshole.  It was one of his finer qualities, he often liked to think.

“Don’t feel left out, honey.  We’ll include you too,” The Orion winked at her girlfriend before sauntering away from the doorway, “I mean, It’s happened before.  If you’re gonna go out, might as well go out with a bang.”

“Literally.”

Gaila laughed, throwing her head back and throwing a hand to her chest in her typical expressive movements, while Jim grinned at his own pervasiveness and Uhura did her typical routine of shaking her head and flicking her eyes towards the ceiling.  Maybe, one day, it’d actually make a difference.  Probably not, but a girl could dream.  Especially considering at that point in time she was legitimately reduced to slumping down against the wall in what might’ve been shame but might’ve be-

Nah, it was probably shame.  Sometimes she wondered why she ever even bothered.  “Your lack of shame knows no bounds, does it?”

“Who, me?” Kirk asked.  He briefly turned to Uhura with a grin far wider than it should have been before turning back to Gaila, who was holding out her hand for him to help her across the rail.

“Both of you.”

The Orion slipped under the rail, Kirk’s hand in hers to help, hips wiggling and lips smiling as she did.  “It’s one of my many finer qualities, I like to think,” She giggled as she bent down to press a kiss to Uhura’s cheek.

Uhura bit the inside of her mouth to try and hide her smile, even though it failed miserably.  For a Communications major, she really wasn’t all that subtle.  

“And you call me disgusting,” Kirk groaned at them both.

Uhura and Gaila both tilted their heads to the side, confusion written clear on their faces. “What?” They asked in almost unison.  

He gestured to them both with a lazy wave and an exasperated expression, “You two.”

Instantly Gaila’s confusion melted into a teasing grin.  She stood to pat Jim’s cheek in a distinctly patronizing way, a way Jim did not appreciate.  At all.  “Aww, I think he feels left out.”  She threw a pouting face towards Uhura, who snickered (so not okay), before turning back to Jim.  

“You think you’re so funny.”

Gaila shrugged in a way that was frighteningly similar to how Jim often did.  Except did he…?  Did he always look so...so asshole-ish?  Probably.  “It’s mostly because I am.”

“So modest,” Uhura sarcastically pointed out, eyes rolling in exasperation even as she smiled nonetheless.  

Gaila turned over her shoulder to wink at Uhura, “No sense in denying perfection.”

“Again, unbelievable,” Her girlfriend sighed.  “Both of you.”

Kirk threw his hands up and gave a lecherous smile, “Like she said; a lack of shame is one of our finer qualities,” He winked at them both and because of it earned responses as different as oil and water.  Gaila smiled and wiggled her eyebrows, Uhura crossed her arms over her chest and seemed to begin contemplating why she ever thought associating with either of them was a good idea. “I mean, whatever would you do without us?  Your very own genius in a bottle and his debauched little Christmas Elf.  Life just wouldn’t be the same, I bet.  You’d be deprived, horribly deprived, and the academy just wouldn’t be as fun anymore.”

“Oh, baby you know it,” Gaila directed towards Uhura, who - again - let out a solid exhalation of breath.  “Merry Christmas and ho, ho, ho.” Her body wriggled in time with her words, because it wouldn’t be Gaila if debauchery wasn’t somehow involved.

Which was probably why Uhura had suddenly begun drinking from her mug more frequently than ever, “Only you two,” And add to that the shaking of her head, “Only you two would take the most family friendly holiday ever and turn it into a euphemism.”

Blue eyes shifted down to look directly into the accusing gaze Uhura was giving him, “Wrong.  Easter is the most family friendly holiday.  Thanksgiving the second.  Christmas is a not-so-close third.”

“Oh, please Christmas before Thanksgiving, always.”

Jim scoffed.  He extended a finger to begin counting his arguments on; he might need a few more fingers, “Um, hello? Can you say naughty Christmas elves?  Sexy Mrs. Clause? Sexy Santa’s helper?  Slutty Santa?” He gave Uhura a pointed look, which screamed _family friendly, my ass._

“I think that becomes a personal problem, when you celebrate Christmas in bars.”

The chuckle Jim gave was concerning, “Not bars, just really frisky exes.  Which means, on the grounds that there has never been to my knowledge a Naughty Turkey, a Sexy pilgrim, or a Slutty Charlie Brown, Thanksgiving is officially the second most family friendly holiday.  Also, I’ve never gotten pink, fuzzy handcuffs on Thanksgiving, so…”

“And I’ve never given pink, fuzzy handcuffs on Thanksgiving, so…” Gaila oh-so-helpfully concurred before turning to her girlfriend, “Which, by the way, if you’re wondering what to get me-”

“No.”

Gaila gave a pouting face, “You’re no fun.”

“You’re getting coal.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Jim whipped around to face Uhura, child-like glee shining in his eyes as he did so, “What’re you getting me?”

“Nothing.”

“Well,” Jim dramatically exclaimed, “That’s no fair, I thought we were friends.”

Uhura shrugged, “Eh.”

“What have I ever done to you to deserve something so cruel?”

“Um,” Uhura threw him a total _bitch, don’t even start with me_ face, which just made Kirk’s face break out into an even wider, even more teasing smile.  Typical.  “Besides stalking me, harassing me, and generally making my life hell?”

Gaila hummed, “Sounds like someone needs a girlfriend.”

Kirk groaned, “No thank you.”

Uhura turned to Gaila with her eyebrows raised in what was probably amusement.  “Boyfriend?”

“I think so.”

“Uh, hello, I’m standing right here,” Jim said, sounding distinctly offended that they would dare interfere with his non-existent love life.  It was non-existent for a reason, thank you very much.  “And I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I think so,” Gaila grinned.

“That’s what we’ll get him for Christmas; a cute little boyfriend.”

“A twink?”

“Nah, blonde and blonde?  I don’t think so.  Try a little more tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Oh,” Gaila cooed, “I think you’re right.”

Jim shook his head in resignation, tipping it back to stare at the ceiling in a dismal loss of hope.  Maybe he was praying to the universe.  Or better yet asking someone, somewhere out there to put him out of his misery and just smite them both.  “I hate both of you.”

Gaila smacked her lips, “You so love us.”

Kirk gave a _humphing_ noise, which made Uhura raise her eyebrows in response and Gaila place her hands on her hips, “You know what?  In return for all this trauma I think you,” He turned to the Orion beside him, his blue eyes easily taking in the knee-high knit socks and thigh length plaid shirt that was (kinda, sorta, not really) covering her frame.  It made quite the picture, actually.“Need to really expound on your Christmas gifting habits.  You gave someone pink, fuzzy handcuffs one year?  I’m intrigued.”

“Not today, honey,” She pat his cheek with a chuckle before cheekily walking around him to saunter towards the center of the level, where the mugs and Hot Chocolate and blankets were centered.

“Not ever,” Uhura clarified with pursed lips and a sharp look directed towards them both.

“Oh, don’t tell me…” Kirk began with gleeful delight, his hand going to instantly cover his agape mouth.  Oh, this was too good.  “You didn’t,” He turned to Gaila, then back to Uhura, “Did she-?”

But Uhura refused to answer.  Instead she sipped (borderline chugged) from her coffee mug.  

“Maybe I’ll tell you as a Christmas gift,” Gaila said over her shoulder, grinning widely as she did.

“Don’t you dare, Gaila,” Uhura all too quickly warned.  The fact that the Orion only winked in return was not the least bit helpful.  At all.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Jim declared with a flourish, ignoring Uhura completely except when he unsteadily plopped back down next to her, deciding perhaps a little late to raise his glass and stretch an arm around Uhura’s shoulders, “To Gaila!  Because a round of toasts wouldn’t be complete without one raised to you, you horny slut.  You’re our very own Christmas Elf exiled from the North Pole for all kinds of unspeakable NC-17 type things and thank god for that!  You’re the woman whose charms no one can resist and a maker of words that don’t exist – the twinkledouche raises his glass to you!”

Uhura smirked a sort of smirk which said she was doing it despite herself, and raised her glass nonetheless, “To Gaila!”

“Thank you, thank you,” The Orion took a bow before them, grinning as her two fellow cadets applauded her.  “Normally,” She bent down to pluck a packet of Hot Chocolate from one of the boxes, “I would give an acceptance speech, but unfortunately my awesomeness transcends the bounds of what normal words can convey,”  Her mocha eyes skimmed over to Kirk, who was reverently giving his graces through elaborate hand gestures and bowing motions, “Hot Chocolate?”

“Yes, please,” Nyota immediately said – almost too immediately – even though her mug was still a quarter full.  But her smile was an agreeable smile and Gaila had never been great at telling the people she fucked no, especially not when alcohol was involved.  And so she plucked a packet of the powdered drink with an ever-devious smirk, before turning to Kirk with an expectantly raised eyebrow.

“Nah,” Kirk shook his head and waved it away, “I’m good.”

The red-head peered at him for a moment, almost as if she were trying to figure out if he was sick or not, only to completely and immediately ignore him in the form of plucking up another packet.  “I’ll be back in five.”  She said, picking up three mugs as she went, but not before planting a quick kiss to Uhura’s lips.  How sweet.

The doors shut behind her with an audible sound, and the second they did Kirk turned to Uhura with childish delight, “You can’t just not tell me.”

Uhura knew she’d regret asking the moments the words were from her mouth, but curiosity was an interesting thing. “Tell you what?”

“Pink, fuzzy handcuffs.  I repeat, you can’t just not tell me.”

Uhura couldn’t control her laughter, even as she rolled her eyes – though whether that was because of Kirk, because of Gaila or because of the little bit of her drink that had decided to gracelessly spew from her lips, no one knew.  “You’ll never know,” She retorted as she wiped her chin off on the nearest blanket.Gross.

“Oh, come on~” He very nearly whined. Because _hello_ , Gaila, Uhura and hot, kinky sex?  So worth it.   “Twenty credits you used them the night you got them.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave a teasing grin, “Who says we waited that long?”

“Oh.  My.  God,” Kirk turned towards her and angled his head in her direction, eyes shining as if they were discussing a particularly juicy piece of gossip.  Which, in a way, they sort of were.  “You slut,” Playfully, he hit Uhura across the arm.  “Both of you; sluts.”

As with most of the shit that spewed from his mouth, all it did was make Uhura huff before pressing her lips into a thin line.  She said nothing, because there was nothing quite to say.  Sometimes it was just easier to go with it when dealing with Kirk.

“Twenty credits and she’ll have slept with half the class by the time we’ve graduated.”

Uhura snorted and turned to Jim, “I think you’re being generous.  Forty she’ll have slept with the whole class.  In public.”

But then the two shared a look and immediately they were both saying, “And some teachers.”  They were also both laughing too because goddamnit, it was true.  Because Gaila was...well, Gaila and relationships didn’t last forever.  Especially not academy relationships; Uhura was oddly okay with that.  

“Wait…” Kirk said into Uhura’s shoulder.  The hand with the mug of wine was being thrown this way and that, expressively swayed around with his words, “Wait.  So does this voyeuristic, public sex thing include you too?  Because that would be totally awesome.  And hot.  It’d be awesomely hot.”

She tapped the ceramics of her cup against her nail, her head cocked to the side and her gaze off to the side as she contemplated it.  Finally, she just ended up shrugging, all the while trying to distinctly steer clear of the train of thought that wondered just what exactly she was doing with her life, “Depends on the rum to chocolate in this ‘ol mug of mine.”

“Fair enough,” Jim conceded with an inclination of the head.  “Threesome?”

And thus, ladies and gentlemen, the third spit-take of the night.  Great, just great – as Uhura wiped her chin with that same damn blanket from the first time.  Gross.  Just…gross.  Which made it surprising that she even had it in her to respond, because – ew – spit take.  What was even more surprising, though, was the eerie nonchalance of the response.  Uhura – 1, Kirk - 0, “Depends.  You have Vodka?”

“Maybe.”

Uhura nodded, “Then maybe.”

Not something she would’ve said, perhaps, had she anticipated the way Kirk started grinning at her.  Or eying her.  Or drinking from his mug like it was a fucking porno.  Or licking the rim of his cup like it was a goddamned fellatio scene.

Which was probably why Uhura ultimately leaned forward and, face inches from Jim’s and mind instantly regretting her response, clearly enunciated, “Joking.”

“Whoa now, no take backs, honey,” Jim loudly laughed with bright eyes.

She blew her bangs back as she crossed her arms, “In your dreams, Kirk.”

And as if on cue the lab doors slid open with the distinct sound of passing air and without even turning around or verifying, Jim threw a hand over his head and obnoxiously asked, “Hey, Gaila, you hear that?  Uhura said she’d totally have a threesome with us if we gave her enough Vodk- Oh.”

Shit.

“You’re not Gaila.”

An eyebrow flicked upwards.  A black eyebrow, framed by pale skin and not curly red hair.  “No, Cadet Kirk,” The person who was definitely Not-Gaila carefully said, “I do not appear to be.”

The responses were almost immediate; jumping to a stand, a constant mental mantra of _Oh shit.  Oh shitshitshitshitshitshitshit,_ glaring Communications majors, sheepishly confused Command-track majors, words jumbled together when they spewed forward simultaneously.

“Mr. Spock, I thought you went home for the holiday break.”

“Wait…You know my name?”

“I had intended to, cadet,” The instructor began, eyes trained solely on Cadet Uhura as if he were ignoring Kirk.  Even though he probably was, because – hello – it was freakin’ Kirk. “Unfortunately the storm has made me unable to leave the city.  My shuttle was scheduled to leave tomorrow.”

Uhura nodded her sympathy, eyes conveying more than her words ever could. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, well,” The Vulcan cleared his throat and shifted his footing, “Although it is quite unfortunate, it is also quite unavoidable.  Therefore your sentiments, even though appreciated, are illogical.”  

Jim stared at the Vulcan.  Just...stared.  And as he did he couldn’t help the way his expression crinkled with annoyance and vague insult, especially when he began looking between Uhura and Spock.  Uhura who was nodding her head and giving the damn Vulcan this pity-filled expression, and Spock who was simply staring at her as if she was some odd, mystical, unreadable, illogical creature.   _Seriously?_ Jim began to think with distinct disdain, _She was trying to console you, assbutt.  And she says I’m a bastard..._

“As for you Cadet Kirk,” Shit.  Kirk’s head snapped up,  too enraptured with mentally bashing the prick to notice that said prick had channelled his unreadable gaze on him.  It was a curious gaze, one that saw straight through a person and peered right into the very essence of their soul.  Creepy. “Given your extensive criminal record and current penchant for breaking academy regulations, it is hard to not know of you.”

A pause of silence.

“Oh.”

The fact that a certain cadet sitting next to him was snickering behind her hand, did not help.  At all.  Neither did the fact that Spock’s eyes were narrowing and he was taking a step forwards.  The Vulcan cocked his head to the side, hands still tightly clasped behind his back in a parade rest.  He was even still in his gray uniform, unlike Uhura who had opted for an over-sized sweater and sweatpants and Jim who had decided on a pullover two sizes too big and nice, thick jeans.  All in all, he looked like the type of person who seriously needed to look into getting the pole tightly shoved up his ass surgically removed.  Or maybe that was just Kirk’s bias speaking; who ever really knew?

“Which is why I am sure that you are perfectly well aware that alcohol is not generally permitted on academy grounds.”

“Of course he knows,” Uhura quickly jumped in with a dazzling smile.  Not cocky like Kirk or seductive like Gaila, but…Uhura.  She turned to Jim with an expectant gaze, not quite able to resist the urge of kicking him in the shin.  “Right Kirk?” Unfortunately shin-kicking wasn’t an option though (and neither, unfortunately, was face-palming) when Jim tried to remedy things by gracelessly shifting the bottle of wine by his side behind his leg.  Graceless, of course, was a key word, since all he ended up doing was knocking over the (thankfully corked) bottle and aiming a nervously dorky smile at Spock.  So much for subtly.

Jim went back to scratching the back of neck, “Yep.”

But the instructor only raised an eyebrow. His eyes flicked from the knocked over bottle of wine to Jim’s face and immediately Jim knew they were fucked.  All of them.  Probably royally.

But then Spock’s lips parted and the last thing Jim ever thought would come from his mouth ( _okay,_ may not the last, but close.  Last was probably something along the lines of “ _These chicken wings are the bomb-dot-com”)_ came from his mouth,  “A satisfactory enough enough response, I suppose.” But the words were still careful and his lips still lingered over the word satisfactory as his eyes flickered back to that damned bottle and the mug next to Uhura, all in a way which said he was not an idiot.  But then his eyes flicked to Nyota and he gave a curt nod, all in a way which said she was the only reason he wasn’t saying anything.  “I apologize if I have disrupted either of your evenings.”

“You know, you don’t have to go.  You could stay if you want,” She said with a smile, which wasn’t even slightly strained at all.  Even though Jim was barely able to stop himself from staring at her like she was crazy.  Which he obviously wasn’t doing a good job of hiding, considering he got an elbow to the side from Uhura anyways.  “It’s the holiday season, Spock, and the more the merrier, right?”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow in question, “That is a Terran expression?”

“Yes.”  Spock nodded his head in kind and when he did, Jim noticed that Uhura had this little look in her eyes.  Fondness.  But it was the type of fondness you gave to someone who you might also turn to and say _bless your heart, darlin’_ not five seconds later.  

“I thank you for your offer, Nyota, however it is not necessary.  I believe wishing you a happy holiday would be an appropriate term to use?”

She smirked in response and nodded, “Yeah, it would be.  Happy Holidays to you too.”  Spock curtly nodded, before turning on his heel to leave.  But before he quite could, before he had a chance to make it all the way through the doorway, Nyota cocked her head to the side,  “And Spock?”

The Vulcan turned back over his shoulder, eyebrow ever raised as he stopped just short of leaving. “Yes?”

“Thank-you.”

Confusion flickered across the Vulcan’s face, a moment where he almost seemed inclined to ask why, before he decided better of it.  Instead, he tilted his head to the side and with nothing but a nod, turned and left.

And in his wake, there was silence.

It was almost like they were afraid he was going to show up again, pop up and report them for some obscure regulation-breaking behavior they weren’t even aware of.  It’d be a very Spock thing to do, if one were to ask Jim.  Or maybe they stayed so still and quiet because it was the shock of it, that _holy shit that just happened and oh my god there actually existed an entire race of people who somehow managed to be bigger assholes than Jim and how was that even a thing._ Or maybe it was both combined, since both were fairly legitimate responses.  But seconds, minutes passed and nothing happened.  Kirk remained standing while Uhura slid down against the ledge to sit, both watching the door and…nothing.

No Spock.  No surprise, ‘ah-ha, got you!’.  There was nothing.

Until, that was, Jim began chuckling.  It slow at first, out of the blue and quiet.  It almost wasn’t even there, until it gradually began to grow.  It expanded, in volume and in frequency and it was almost like it was infectious, because when Jim began chuckling so did Uhura, until they were both cackling together.  And until they, Jim somehow having managed to slide to the floor in the middle of all this, were a jumbled heap on the floor, laughing and cackling together.  It was incoherent and sudden, born half from the fact that Spock was a douche and half just because they could.

Cabin fever and alcohol just might have played a small part, of course.  No wonder it wasn’t allowed on academy grounds.  Because when alcohol was involved shit went down and things happened - all of it things and happenings that were almost immediately regretted.  The cackling didn’t help any either, because that was what it really was; alcohol and cabin fever and mindless cackling that eventually lead to things being said and because of that, _things_ being set into motion.  Things that no one even knew existed until they were already in place.  Jim and Uhura cackling because Vulcans were dicks and Jim was saying something that Uhura could barely make out (“ _Man, I can’t believe you had a thing for that asshole!”)_ but that she could hear just enough to respond.  And that’s how it started.  All because of alcohol and cackling and cabin fever.

Or, really, it started after the cackling.  Once Uhura had gotten her laughter under control and after she had pushed Kirk off her and onto the floor.  “He’s not _that_ bad…once you get to know him.”

“Y’know that’s basically saying that he really is _that_ bad, you just get used to it, right?” Jim pointed out from his lying position, his cackling tamed to slurred snorts.  He raised the previously knocked over bottle of wine to his lips, abandoning the now also knocked over coffee mug.

Uhura shrugged, “He’s a nice guy.”

“Really?  ‘Cuz that was some class-A douche-ness that I saw back there.”

A punch was given to Jim’s upper arm, causing the cadet to rub it with a grimace. Damn, girl had a bite “Be nice.”

He threw up his arms above his head in protest, twisting to incredulously stare at his companion, “I just don’t get it.  How is it that you were so intent on getting with,” He waved towards the door Spock had exited minutes ago, “ _him_ for, like, ever, but not me?”

But when Nyota began her answer by chuckling in this dark way, he suddenly regretted asking.  He almost feared for an answer, and rightfully so.  “That’s a long list, Kirk.  You want it alphabetically or chronologically?”

“What’s the difference?”

She rolled her eyes, “The start.  Alphabetically you begin with asinine idiot, chronologically you start with pathetic pick-up lines.”

“Alphabetically,” He winked and Uhura couldn’t help but giggle.  “I’ve always had a thing for wordplay.  Nothing gets me all hot and bothered like ‘asinine’.  But seriously?  I’m so glad you moved on.  That guy?  Total asshole.”

“And what?” Her tone was stuck halfway between still giggling and halfway between sassy glare.  Certainly an interesting mix.  “You’re any better?”

“Only because I _know_ I’m a total asshole.   _And_ I don’t have a stick shoved up my ass, there’s that,” He grinned, which only made Uhura playfully bat at him, “Plus, if I had a fine lady like you pinning after me, I’d at least have the good graces to take you out.  Like that engineer you’re dating, what’s her name again?”

Uhura rolled her eyes at the twinkle of humor in Jim’s eyes “You think you’re so funny.”

“It’s because I am,” He smiled down into his mug.  “But seriously?  You and Gaila? I didn’t see it coming, but…” He shrugged, “It works.  I’m happy for you.  That Spock guy probably doesn’t know the difference between a high class woman,” He gestured to Uhura, “And a science experiment.  I firmly stand on the belief that you’re better without him.”

Uhura smirked at Kirk, “So does Gaila,” She said but left it at that.  Her smirk was slightly wistful, the type that would make Kirk want to gag if it was anyone else.  Because yeah, her and Gaila were...good for each other.  Unexpected, but good.  And Jim...he was happy for them.  And Bones was too, if the amount of grumbling he did towards those ‘noisy lesbians’ was any indication.

“Maybe he’s gay.”

Never a good thing to say to someone when they’re drinking something.  Especially not when they’re drinking wine, to be specific.  Especially not when they’re drinking wine and they’re a person who was very prone to spewing things all over themselves - which was exactly what Jim did.  There was a slight beat, albeit, between her words and Jim’s response, where he sputtered and where he tried to wipe the liquid from his chin.  “Uhura, I don’t think he’s gay.”

“Well,” She said, almost a tad too sassily, as she threw up her hands.  “Either he’s gay or blind, because it’s not like I was exactly subtle.  I motherfucking asked him dinner-”

“I know,” Jim stated with a pointed look, only a drink of wine away from going into ‘sassy gay best friend’ mode.  “I was there.  And it was terrible.  Painful too.”

She squinted her eyes in a glare that immediately made Jim shut up.  “Be quiet, Kirk.  I asked him to dinner and he all he could say was _Fascinating._ Who the fuck says that?  Look, here’s a smart, independent, confident, _hot as hell_ woman who just asked me out on a date, I think complete and utter disinterest shown through monotone syntax would be a completely appropriate response.  It was absolutely ridiculous.”

“Right.  So ridiculous that you said ‘fuck this’ and then, well, fucked Gaila.”

“That’s _not_ how it happened,” She almost testily retorted.

Kirk shrugged, “You say tomato, I say tomahto, but that’s not the point.  Point is, he’s Vulcan and you’re, like, an expert on Vulcans and shit, right?”

Uhura crossed her arms, “As much as anyone who isn’t Vulcan can be.”

“Right, so if you can’t get him, then no one can.  I mean, maybe he’s asexual.  That would be logical, right?  And Vulcans are logical.”

“I guess…”

“And maybe,” Uhura’s fellow cadet shrugged, “Well, Vulcans are engaged at birth, right?  So the last thing he’s probably thinking about is which of his students he could get away with banging.  Plus, he’s probably as oblivious as a plank of wood and as impossible to seduce as one too, since – y’know – he’s Vulcan and all.”

“Oh my god.” And…Uhura now had her head in her hands and oh shit, what had Jim done _now?_

“What?” He nonchalantly asked as he took a swig, pushing down the bad feeling that he was in the middle of giving her an ulcer.  Or a nervous breakdown.  Or maybe an emotional breakdown.  Or maybe it was all of the above and oh shit, wouldn’t that just be great?

Gaila would kill him.

“You’re right.”

Another swig taken.  “That he’s oblivious as a plank of wood?”

“No.  I mean, yes he is, but I already knew that.  That he’s asexual.”

Another swig, and a shrug.  “Probably.”

“Or he’s gay.”

“Less probable, but still possible.”

Uhura made a noise in the back of her throat, something which sounded like it was halfway between affirmation and consideration as she inclined her head.  Her eyes darted down to her hands, which were folded around the cup, and-

_Beep._

Uhura’s head snapped to her side.

_Beep._

“Weather alert,” She muttered more to herself than anyone else, as she fished her comm from the scramble of blankets.  With a flick of her fingers, she flipped her communicator open to the sound of a distinctly monotone female voice.

“ _Temperatures are expected to to continue dropping, with no sign of reaching above freezing until the end of next week.  Currently, the cold front is causing the San Francisco area to experience abnormally high winds and low temperatures, with a one hundred percent chance of freezing rain that could amount to an ice storm.  This is expected to last until mid-day tomorrow, but the glaze it will leave behind is expected to accumulate to at least four inches and last well into next week.  Be advised, all citizens are encouraged to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary until otherwise notified.  Be aware that what look like snow is not snow but thick layers of ice.  Remember citizens, stay safe and stay warm.”_

The female voice faded away, only to be replaced by a male voice and the words, _this public service announcement has been brought to you by-_

Uhura flipped the communicator shut with a sigh; so much for seeing her family.  She had been looking forward to it, the first time since she had started at Starfleet that she would get the chance, but goddamn San Francisco just _had_ to fuck with that, didn’t it?

“Don’t look so forlorn,” Kirk waved off.  There was a crinkle as he unwrapped an old, outdated package of Biscoff cookies he had managed to find among the piles of utter _stuff_.  “It’s California, Uhura.  I give it two days tops.”

“First off,” A sour glower was settled on the blond cadet, not unrightfully so, “I do _not_ look forlorn.  Secondly, are you deaf or just plain oblivious?  They – as in the professional meteorologists who are paid to do this – said it’s gonna last for at least the next week, well into Christmas.”

“And what, have you _not_ been living in the same San Francisco I have for the past two years or something?” He asked, eyes wide and hands expressive in their motions, “It doesn’t get cold here, Uhura – or at least it doesn’t get cold and stay that way.  I bet you by Thursday it’ll be thawed out, temperatures will be back at seventy degrees and it’ll be like this cold front never came through.  No white Christmas for us.”

Uhura looked at Jim skeptically.  It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out she was less than impressed, that she would rather put more faith in the weatherwoman than Jim – a valuable assessment, if you asked anyone who actually knew him. “You really think that?”

“All the way, sister.  I’ll even tell you this, if I’m wrong and we do have a White Christmas, then I will get on the roof of this very fucking building and I will sing at the top of my lungs.”

There was a pause, a slight silence as she actually considered it.  As she eyed Jim like she wasn’t sure if he was bullshitting her or not.  Knowing him, he probably wasn’t.  “Will you sing _White Christmas_ for irony’s sake?”

“Always.”

“Okay.  And if you’re right?”

And now the smile Kirk sported turned into a grin, and it was a very, very disconcerting grin.  “Y’know, I am so, positively glad you asked.”

“Oh god.” She muttered more to herself than, throwing him a look that suggested he might’ve been insane.  Probably because he was, as he stretched an arm around her shoulders and gestured to the great expanse before them like it was some grand imaginary adventure he was about to lead her on.  There was no way this was going anywhere good.  “If I’m right, you have to do me a favor.  Just one, simply, teeny-tiny, favor.”

“No.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jim turned to her, hands up, expression slightly affronted, “You can’t just say no.  You have your terms, I have mine, that’s how it goes.”

But Uhura just crossed her arms and pursed her lips, “No.”

“You can’t just do that!”

“Well,” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, because goddamnit she was Nyota Uhura and when she said no, she motherfucking said no.  “I just did.”

Kirk huffed, giving an unattractive _ugh_ as he fell back against the drywall surface of the ledge.  “You don’t even know what the favor was going to be,” He eventually moped.  His arms were crossed and his lips jutted out in a put, as if acting like a tantruming five year old would sway Uhura.

“Oh please,” mocha eyes rolled to the ceiling as she too crossed her arms across her chest, “Don’t _even_.  You’re hardly as subtle as you think.  I know exactly what you were gonna ask for.”

An incredulous expression was given, “You do no-”

“The _Kobayashi Maru.”_

Oh.

Shit.

“You want me to help you cheat,” She stated - not asked, not questioned, stated - with an accusing stare, and when Jim refused to meet her gaze it was answer enough.  “That’s steep, Kirk.  Real steep.  Especially if all it’s weighted against is you singing _White Christmas_ off-key _.”_

A mock look of hurt was thrown her way, “I’ll have you know my singing is beautiful.”

“Not the point, Kirk.”

“Right,” he nodded, “So what if it was weighted against something else?”

She shrugged.  “Depends.”

“Okay…” He tapped against the bottle situated in between his legs, obviously deep in thought as he stared out in front of him.  “Name your price.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow, something she seemed to have been getting quite good at lately, “Anything?  Anything at all?”

Kikr shrugged, “Why not?  I don’t have to necessarily agree.”

She nodded, as if seriously considering it, before shifting her gaze to Kirk, “Okay.  Spock.”

“What about him?”

“Get him to ask you out.”

“Whoa, there.” Blue eyes stared at her, wide and slightly frazzled as hands were held out to stop the thread of insanity that was more than likely Uhura’s thoughts at that time.  “You want _me_ to get that _prick_ to go on a date with me?”

She shrugged.  “Preferably?  Yes.  But only because it’s not nice to lead people on, and I certainly don’t encourage it, but it’s not necessary.  Only requirement is that you have to make him show some sort of romantic interest, that’s all.  You don’t actually _have_ to date him.”

“Why?”

Another shrug, apparently it was becoming a thing. “First thing that came to mind.”

But Jim knew better than that.  Because he knew Uhura and he liked to think he knew women – how true or untrue that was, was still technically up for debate – and he knew it was a test.   _Is it just me or is it just him_ and now Jim was being dragged into it and well, Jim was Uhura’s friend.  And when a you have friend who spent over a year pining over a guy, only to suddenly realize that that guy never had any interest in the first place, well, yeah… Enough said.  She may have been over the guy - Gaila was proof of that - but that didn’t mean she had to be over the rejection.  The fact that she was freakin’ Nyota Uhura didn’t help anything, the woman who got what she wanted when she wanted - no exceptions.

Also, the rum probably had something to do with it.  Not that Jim would ever say that, because, as mentioned earlier, Uhura was his friend and, as not mentioned earlier, she could probably kick his ass halfway to the Laurentian system and back.

“Right, and you just want _me_ to do this because…what?  I’m the most attractive and charming of all the land and therefore it is my duty to wake sleeping beauty from her deep sleep?”

Uhura rolled her eyes and scoffed, but didn’t deny it.  “More like you’re not completely ugly.  And you can be kinda charming when you want.  I guess.”

“So basically, if anyone can get into the stuck-up Vulcan’s pants it’s me?”

Uhura smiled, and that – in and of itself – was concerning.  “Exactly.”

“I’m not sleeping with him.”

Thin hands were held out in surrender, “I said _romantic_ interest, not _sexual_ interest.  Two completely different things. Just…get him to go out with you.  Once.  And clearly establish that all intentions are romantic.  That’s it.”

Kirk inclined his head.  He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes straying from Uhura as he seemed to contemplate the idea.  "And if I lose?  If I can't charm my way into the pretty princess' pants?  What do you get?"

Uhura smirked.  And, in Jim's opinion, it was not a good smirk.  It was a devious smirk with devious intentions.  "The satisfaction."

"Of?"

"Seeing the look on your face when you finally realize you're hardly as charming as you think."  

Kirk considered it.  He slowly nodded his head and peered at Uhura as if he was actually, kinda thinking about it and, well, he wrapped his lips around the opening of the wine bottle and tossed it back because  _holy shit_ he wasn’t drunk enough for this.  “So exactly how much of this is the rum and how much of this is actually you?”

“It’s mostly the rum.”

“Well that blows.”

Uhura lightly snorted, “We’ll put it writing.”

And Kirk made a face that suggested he was considering it. “I can go for that.” Only to pause a moment later with an exhalation of air, “But you realize that if you help me you’d be breaking, like, every anti-cheating reg ever and you’re,” He chuckled, “Well, you’re...you.”

“Yeah,” She leveled Kirk with a heavy look, “And if you do this thing with Spock you’d be actually, like, pursuing someone romantically without trying to fuck them and you’re,”  She gestured to Kirk.  All of him.  “You’re...you.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Exactly,” She gave a faint smile before patting his shoulder, “So, deal?”

“Deal.”

And when Kirk held out a hand to shake and offered one of his stereotypical grins, Uhura couldn’t help but do the same.  Of course, her smile was a lot less wide and a whole hell of a lot less shit-eating, but the principle was still kinda the same.  Their hands clasped together, palms interlocking in brief but exaggerated motions.  The doors behind them swished open and fortunately this time when they turned around it was only Gaila they saw.

“Ooohhh, shaking hands, how official.  What’d I miss?” She flounced into the room, poised to walk around to the pile of blankets and hand Jim his mug before Nyota snatched it first with a grin and a glint in her eye.  The end result was a tickle fight and Jim’s vocal musings, wondering what he would do with all this newfound information about Uhura that he hadn’t even realized he’d had until then. (“ _So your first name’s Nyota, huh?  I’m definitely calling you that from now on.  Or,” he had drawled, “Do you have a nickname?  Like, Ny-Ny or something?  Or – hey!  No throwing pillows!  I’m serious- mmph!”)_.  In the end it led to a pillow fight of epic proportions and way more feathers flying through the air than there should have been.  All in all, not a bad way to start winter break.  It certainly could’ve been worse.

Even if Jim couldn’t stop wondering just what the hell he had gotten himself into.  Probably not anything even remotely good.  Oh well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly set-up, but *shrugs* it has to be put in there somewhere. Also, Jim and Spock are both assholes, Gaila/Uhura because lesbians need love too, and the ever obligatory thanks to [Expelliar Moose](http://www.expelliar-moose.tumblr.com)\- because she's awesome.  
> If you'd like, I also lurk on [Tumblr](http://www.se7endevil.tumblr.com) and [Livejournal](http://www.se7endevils.livejournal.com). Hit me up, send me a message, a prompt, tell me how much you absolutely despise me. Y'know.


	2. Five Bad Pick-Up Lines and a Plan That Might Actually Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is an idiot, Uhura is a genius, and Spock is just kinda stuck in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Yes, I realize this is a little late, but oh well! May 2014 bring all that you are looking for in life and just a little more. May it bring happiness and love and joy and friends and family. And may it bring, most importantly of all, smut. Wonderfully wonderful, shamelessly shameless smut. Hopefully of the Spirk variety.  
> Anyways, Happy New Year, I love each and every one of you guys, and I hope you enjoy this (barely edited, tiredly put together) chapter. Enjoy!

The storm was, for the lack of a better word, troublesome.

All of it was in fact troublesome.

The storm, the lack of supplies, the weather report – it was all troublesome.  So troublesome, in fact, that using the word troublesome was an understatement.  But simply because something was troublesome did not make it any less true.  And simply because one acknowledged how troublesome a situation may or may not have been did not make it any less so either and-

Spock pursed his lips; he imagined that if he were human he would have sighed.

It was all becoming quite illogical.

There was no helping it.  The situation was unfortunate, of course, but his mother and father would understand.  They would have to, apparently.  And Spock of course understood.  Terran weather patterns tended to be unpredictable at best; he knew that.  He had known that from the second he had stepped foot on the planet.  But…

But that did not stop that small part of him.  The human part.  The distinctly troublesome section of his mind that niggled at his heart and ached in his chest and resounded in his ribs.

_Regret._

_Sadness._

All illogical, but all true.

_Knock.  Knock.  Knock._

Spock turned towards the door of his office, his brown eyes weighing the sight as he steepled his fingers against his chin.  “Enter.” There was a ninety-four-point-eight-three percent it was Nyota at his door anyways-

“Cadet Kirk.”

There had only been a point-zero-six-two-seven percent chance that it wasn’t Nyota, and a point-zero-zero-two-nine percent chance beyond that that it would have been Cadet Kirk - a number so inconsequential it could statistically be considered equitable to zero.

“Commander,” Kirk nervously said from the doorway.  He looked unsure of himself, as if he felt out of place.  A first, no doubt.  Spock watched as he fiddled with the hem of his oversized sweatshirt and as his fingers wrung together in nervous movements.  He sheepishly smiled.  “I…was…um, wondering if you would be so kind as to…uh…” He visibly swallowed and quickly averted his gaze. “Be so kind as to…”

“As to what, Cadet?”

Goddamn.  The cadet’s eyes flicked to Spock, then quickly away.  Jim never knew an eyebrow could be so intimidating.  They were arched with disapproval and a clear, distinct message of _why the fuck are you wasting my time?._ They were the eyebrows of a serial killer.  Which really was not helping.

“As to…” Jim trailed off, unsure and uncertain.  There were two different ways he could’ve played it out; he could actually act like a nice, civil, not-dickish person and seriously ask for a favor, or he could be the total, insufferable dick that he actually kinda was and just hope that Vulcans were secret masochists.

“As to…lend me a dermal regenerator?”

Total, insufferable dick it was.  A total, insufferable dick with questionable wooing skills, considering even Jim sounded like he was preparing for a drop-kick to the abdomen, rather than the pick-up line of the century.  He scratched the back of his head, one hand shoved into his front pocket as his squinted eyes peered upwards at the ceiling.  God, this was going downhill fast.

Didn’t help that he was about ninety percent sure that the way he was being looked at was skeptical.  He could just feel it.  The goddamned Vulcan probably had an eyebrow raised and lips pursed and everything, like Uhura did whenever Jim was doing something particularly stupid.  Which generally tended to be most of the time. “A dermal regenerator?”

“Uh, yeah.  It’s a funny story actually, you see,” Jim sort of paused, as if reconsidering the direction he had chosen, but it was too late.  No going back.  “I totally scraped my knee when I fell for you.”

Although, on second thought maybe going back wouldn’t have been so bad.  Especially with the way Spock was staring at him, as if maybe his stare alone might be able to burn holes through Jim’s possibly non-existent brain.  The commander quickly took a stand from his desk, lips downturned into what might’ve been a grimace and what might’ve been a purse, as his chocolate eyes narrowed, “Cadet-”

“Y’know what, Commander?  I’m just gonna go.”  Which was probably the first good idea Jim had had since walking into Spock’s office, if not before that.  And when the commander seemed inclined to take a step forward, Jim took a step back.  He still smiled, because it was Jim and it wouldn’t have been Jim if he wasn’t smiling in some form or fashion, but it was a distinctly nervous smile.  And possible self-deprecating. “Like, now. I’m gonna go now.”

“That would be wise.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Spock…fancy seeing you here.”

“Yes Cadet, fancy seeing me here,” And was that….holy crap… Was that sarcasm Jim heard?  It might’ve been.  Spock looked up from the tea he was brewing, eyebrows of course raised as he watched Jim enter as confident as ever.  “In the recreation room that we have each been frequently visiting on an almost hourly basis within the past twenty four hours.  Very rare indeed.”

Okay, that was definitely sarcasm.

“Goddamn,” Kirk whistled, “Are you always this sassy or is this just a me thing?”

“Just…a me thing?  I fail to understand your meaning,” Spock deliberately spoke, his brow furrowed as he began digging through the cabinet above the old-fashioned coffee pot.  Kirk watched him as he did so, that was until he figured that his watching had turned into staring and his staring into something somewhat obsessive and he forced himself to look away.

“Well, y’know,” He slowly began, except he was fairly sure that Spock didn’t know – no matter how big and expressive his hand gestures were.  “Is this whole I’m gonna be a fucking dick thing just something you do to me because you hate me, or is that just a general, I-hate-people-type thing?”

Spock peered at Jim from around the cabinet door, “That is an interesting query, Cadet, yet not at all one you should be posing to a superior.”

“Right,” Jim practically muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.  He clicked his teeth and slowly nodded his head, rocked back on his heels and let out a puff of breath - all in a way that said he was considering him next move.  Thinking of how to proceed, despite the fact that he totally should’ve seen that coming.  “So it is just me,” He said a little more loudly that time, just so Spock could hear him as he reached across the counter to pluck a bag of black tea from a basket laying there.  Thank god one of the linguistic professors had a thing for fresh tea - Ramirez, he thought Uhura had said.  He plopped the bag into the water, carefully laying the string across the lip as his blue eyes slipped across the counter to see Spock taking out a tea bag from his own mug.  “So….Vulcan tea, huh?”

“Yes,” And had he been human, Jim was almost one hundred percent sure he would’ve sighed.  Maybe even rolled his eyes a little.  “Seeing as I am Vulcan it would stand to reason that I drink Vulcan tea.”

Jim, however, had no shame, no humility, not act of poise and therefore had nothing against sighing.  Or rolling his eyes. “Right.”  

There was a shifting to his side and even though Jim didn’t turn to look, he could have guessed that Spock was about to make his escape.  The sound of footsteps not a second later confirmed exactly that and - Jim grit his teeth - goddamnit, if Spock could be a sassy little shit then so could he.  

Which was exactly what he did.

He put on his beat shit-eating grin and turned to face Spock’s retreating form.  He braced his arms against the faux-granite countertop and slouched backwards and he was just sure he had _that_ glint in his eyes.  The one Uhura hated because it looked sleezy or whatever. “So baby,”  Spock immediately froze in the doorway.   _Score._  “Where you been all my life?”

With stiff movements the Vulcan swiveled on his heel to give a Jim a once-over, his eyes hard and cold and...kinda menacing.  No, definitely menacing. “Hiding.”

And then he was gone.  And the door swished behind him.  And Kirk was staring after him like he couldn’t believe it, probably because he couldn’t.  Probably because-

_“Motherfucker!”_

* * *

 

“Someone must have shot you with a phaser set on stunning, ‘cause sweetheart-”

“Although this might be a strain, I ask that you please refrain yourself Cadet.”

“Oh, come one!” Jim practically whined as Spock whisked by in a flurry, “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“Fortunately, Mr. Kirk,” Spock began ever-so-crisply, only briefly stopping to turn over his shoulder and deliver an unhelpful stare.  The fact that his hands were piled high with PADDs didn’t take away from it either.  The message was obvious; Spock was busy and Jim was very much so a gnat in his way.  “It is unnecessary that you finish.  In fact, I believe there is an old Terran saying which compliments this situation quite well; it is the query of whether you fell from heaven or not, since it seems some sort of impact has severely disfigured your aesthetically unpleasing features.”

Jim watched the Vulcan sweep from the room and-

_Motherfuck._

That had to be some kind of record.

 

* * *

 

Kirk inclined his head to the side.  For the universe being almost dead-set on fucking him over, luck seemed to be surprisingly smitten with him.  For once.  That was, if the number of times he accidentally ran into Spock was any indication.  In a little under twenty-four hours, Kirk had already run into that Vulcan bastard three times, and two of those times were legitimate coincidences - no stalking involved.  Which, in Jim’s mind, was great.  

The rejections, however, weren’t so great.

Not unexpected, but not great either.  Not that that was ever gonna stop Kirk or anything…

Especially when he just so managed to run into Spock trapped in mid-conversation.  Distracted and just so happening to be standing in the middle of Language Lab five – a.k.a what had practically become their home sweet, home away from home for the last couple days – he was practically stuck.  Caught.  Trapped.

Kirk had to suppress a smile; perfect.

“Hey, Commander!  So, I was wondering, is it true what they say about Vulcans?” Of course asking that meant cutting right in the middle of what seemed to be Uhura’s fairly important-ish sentence, but she’d get over it.

“Kirk!”

Or maybe not.  Because the glare she was shooting his way most definitely said otherwise.  And the hand that was clenching her mug did the same.  And her furrowed brow and scrunched lips weren’t any better.  And Spock was totally doing his not-glare thing and that in and of itself was terrifying enough.

“And what precisely do they say of Vulcans that you are referring to?”

Kirk leered at Spock, ignoring the way Uhura seemed to hold her breath. “Why, that once you go Vulcan you never go back, of course.  It’s the ears, isn’t it?”

Spock visibly ruffled as Uhura let out the breath she was holding, switching it out for a glare that was both exasperated and appalled.  “Cadet Kirk, that question is not only grossly inappropriate, but also-”

“Hard to answer?  I’m sure it is – pun completely intended.” He grinned and winked, managing to actually kinda look as if he _wasn’t_ totally floating up a creek without a paddle.  Because he definitely was.  Or at least that’s what Bones would’ve said. “Don’t worry, I fully volunteer for a demonstration if need be.”

“ _Cadet-_ ”

“ _Jim-_ ”

“What?  It’s a legitimate concern.  I’d hate for the scientific community to have _another_ unsolved mystery on their hands.” Kirk threw another wink towards Spock, his grin turning borderline idiotic as two mocha pairs of disbelieving stares solidly glared at him.

“I’m afraid, Nyota, that we will have to continue our conversation at another time,” Spock said to Uhura, who was still continuing to throw a totally killer glare in Jim’s general direction. “Until then,” The Vulcan briskly, almost irritably concluded, not even sparing a look in Kirk’s direction once, before sharply walking past him and Uhura in an effort to make a quick exit.

But that didn’t stop Jim – although whether that was because Spock wasn’t brisk enough or Jim was just persistent, no one could have really told, “Y’know, Spock,” He called over his shoulder, hand slightly raised to garner attention, “Your mouth says ‘Shields up’, but your eyes totally say ‘A hull breach is imminent’.”

_Whoosh._

The sliding doors shut behind Spock, and Jim, dis-hearted and slightly defeated, let his hand fall to his side with a dull smack.  Of course, it didn’t help any when he turned to Uhura, who was literally shaking her head as she crossed her arms and aimed her gaze upwards in irritation, and all she could say was, “You’re hopeless.”

 

* * *

 

Kirk let his eyes flick upwards.  

After an entire day of bad pick-up lines and hopeless endeavors, it wasn’t a surprise that he had kinda given up.  Spock was impossible, even Uhura had to admit that, and the only saving grace Jim could even remotely find was that pissing off the Vulcan was really, _really_ fun.  Hilarious, almost.  And was mostly why, by the end of the day, it had somehow kinda turned into a game.  The fact Communication Buildings didn’t usually offer much in the whole entertainment department during surprise ice storms probably didn’t help any.  And that was even still _after_ Bones joined their motley crew of misfits.  Of course, that was also only _after_ the electricity in their dorm had gone out, but still.  Jim would take what he could get - even if all that was was boredom with an extra side of bitching.

But then there was the game.

The pick-up lines.  The failed attempts.  The rejections.  It became something funny, something to laugh at.  Something to entertain himself with.  So it became a game.  A bad game with bad taste and bad tact, but a game nonetheless.  Something to do, Kirk had realized sometime after the fifth failed attempt.  Coincidentally, it was also when he figured out that Uhura was a terrible person, mostly because there was no way in hell Jim was ever going to win that damned bet of hers.  

No fucking way.  And how in all of hell she ever had the hots for Spock, Jim would never know either.  All he ever saw were rigid stances and harsh retorts and sassy bitchfests and – No way.  There was no way he could win, so might as well turn it into a game.

At Spock’s expense, of course.

Because by the end of the day, it was actually getting pretty ridiculous.  Even Jim had to admit that.

“But Spock, think of all the beautiful children we could have!”

Not that that had ever stopped him from doing anything ever, but still.  When even Jim felt that a situation was getting a little ridiculous, then things had obviously gone too far.  And when even Gaila was giving him _the look_ , along with Bones _and_ Uhura – then things had obviously gone _way_ too far.  Like, past the bounds of space and time, too far.

 _“Cadet-”_ Spock wasn’t even trying to mask his annoyance that time.  Not that that was anything new, not after about the fourth attempt or so.  He briskly attempted to walk around the hovering gnat that was Jim, only to be stopped by Jim’s nimble flexibility.  His long legs still carried him through the Language Labs, but - unable to bypass him - Jim still followed him from the front, back facing the direction he was talking in an attempt to ‘walk and talk’ at the same time.

The illogical glimmer of hope that perhaps the cadet would walk himself backwards into a pole could not be blamed on Spock.  At all.

“What?!  With my gorgeous eyes and your flawless skin we’d have beauty pageant material.  On that note, do Vulcan’s even do beauty pageants?”

No response.

“Because I’m sure if you guys did then you totally won them all, didn’t you?  You really seem like the pageant princess type to me.”

Still nothing.

Okay, maybe not _nothing –_ unless clenched fists and green tipped ears was nothing.  Which, in Jim’s book, was just the same.  “Y’know, by not sleeping with me you’re single-handedly depriving a whole slew of children the right to life.  I was thinking we should shoot for three, one girl and two boys.  Or maybe three boys?  Nah, you can’t name a boy Maria, so we need at least one girl for that.  I’m up for suggestions on the boys’ names, though.  Haven’t qui-”

“Mr. Kirk!”

_Oh.  Fuck._

“Yes?” Jim blinked, because his voice totally did not just crack on that last syllable.  And his voice definitely didn’t briefly rise an octave.  Because Spock was totally fucking terrifying when he wanted to be, which Jim was one hundred percent sure was his aim.  They were mere centimeters away from each other, Spock was full-on glaring daggers at him, and _holy shit_ having a Vulcan turn on you was downright mortifying.  Suddenly, Jim regretted having regressed to beauty pageants.

He should’ve gone with Bones’ idea; booze, booze, and more motherfucking booze.

“The only reason I have not begun to file an official complaint against your person is because of your close association with Nyota.  However, my patience is wearing extremely thin, _Cadet_ Kirk,” He said the rank as if trying to remind Kirk of his place.  Of how low in the hierarchy he really was.  Of how utterly inconsequential he was to Spock and how easily he could be to replace.  “Be advised, if you continue to harass me, I will report you.  Are we clear?”

“Uh…”

“Excellent.” And then, because apparently Spock was the fucking Houdini of Vulcans, he was gone.  And when Jim did a full-body turn over his shoulder to follow him, all he got was a face full of glass door and a sudden, raging migraine.  And because apparently that wasn’t enough on its own, his instincts decided that a good reaction would be to slam his foot into the nearest wall.  

Because that sounded like such a fantastic idea.  And because limping was just _so much fucking fun._

“You have got to be kidding me!” He finally yelled at the ceiling and the Heavens above the ceiling.  It was only after Jim realized that he actually kinda expected to get a response that he figured he might wanna check in with Bones.

 

* * *

 

“I absolutely cannot believe you.”

A head of blonde hair appeared from behind the ledge.

“What?”  He asked, or at least that’s what he intended to ask.  How recognizable it actually was was up for debate, considering it was a question formed around a mouth full of instant Ramen.  Groggy blue eyes peered up to gaze at Uhura from under the railing, as hands fumbled with the drop off’s ledge.  The same Uhura who was giving him that _I’m-so-disappointed-in-you_ look from the doorway.  

Kirk hummed, pursed his lips, and pushed down any guilt he might’ve felt at worrying Uhura.  She’d get over it.  Unlike Jim, who would be forever scarred after being so rudely interrupted.  He _had_ been eating a nice, warm lunch (and technically still was) within their little fortress of blankets and pillows and Hot Chocolate.  And he _had_ been waiting for Gaila to get back with his coffee, because nothing said motherfucking productivity like a cup of Gaila brewed coffee.  And he _had_ been about to start on the programming that he probably should’ve finished three weeks ago.  He _had_ been about to do a lot of important, enjoyable things, but then Uhura happened.  

“You’re shameless.  And hopeless.  And I still can’t believe you.” She came down the steps to the second level with her arms crossed, “You asked him what names you should give your future kids.”

“Eh,” Kirk made a face, “Not so much asked as told.”

“Oh my god.” Great.  Now she was shaking her head and cradling her forehead in her palm.  Although whether that was because of the whole Spock thing or because seconds before Kirk had been wiping his mouth off on his sleeve like some uncultured pig, not even she knew. “You act like that’s somehow better.”

“Well,” He drawled with a grin, “It was either that or give him a lap dance like Gaila suggested or get him drunk like Bones suggested.  Although getting him drunk would just lead to drunk sex, so I’m not quite sure how helpful _that_ would’ve been.  So, take your pick.”

“Or,” She said, obviously peeved, “You could’ve taken my suggestion and oh, I don’t know, actually talk to him like a normal human being!”

“Right, because that worked so well for you.”

“Do not get snarky with me, James Tiberius Kirk.”

Jim pursed his lips and smiled at the put out expression coloring Uhura’s face, “Yes, mother.”

She gave an exasperated, almost dramatic sigh.  “You’re absolutely impossible!”

“What?” But he was just laughing, as if Uhura really was overreacting.  Not that she was listening, since she was too busy tapping away at her communicator anyways; too bad.  “It’s not like I ever had a chance anyways.  The guy hated my guts before he even knew me.”

“Jim,” A sour look was directed his way, “That’s most people when it comes to you.  It’s also most people after they get to know you.  And while they’re getting to know you, and everywhere in between.”

“Thanks, Uhura.  Great pep talk.”

“You should really be appreciative, Jim,” She gestured for him to move with an impatient wave of her hand, “Now get up.”

“Y’know, I think I like you better when you’re drunk; why?”

Uhura sighed, but smiled nonetheless.  She tapped a delicate finger against her chin, “Oh, you know, just saving your pathetic ass from being _completely_ destroyed by this bet.”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re helping me?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Although, Jim had to say that the kick to his shin was completely uncalled for.

“But…” He scrunched his brow, lips upturned in a confused kind of expression, “Isn’t the point of a bet to actually try to win it?”

“Usually,” Uhura explained.  She drifted off as he eyes stole a glance at her comm and her voice completely stopped as she quickly typed out a message, “But considering your attempts are legitimately painful to watch, I’m making an exception.”

“They are not!”

“Are too!”

“You know what, Uhura?  You’re just jealous.”  

If ever asked, their stories would always be conflicting.  Uhura’d always say that Kirk started it and Kirk’d always say Uhura started it, but when Uhura briefly turned her back to tap another message into her communicator, she definitely whipped around to find Kirk sticking his tongue out at her.  One of the first signs that a conversation had regressed past the point of no return was when one of the participants resorted to sticking their tongue out.  The second was when the second participant responded in kind - which was exactly what Uhura did.  She crossed her arms and scrunched her eyes and crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue - all of it wonderfully reminiscent of two five year-olds from an old movie.

She made a grimacing face, over-exaggerated and over-animated in every way possible, “Jealous of what?”

“Why,” Jim made grandiose gesture, his arms spread wide as he flashed a cocky smile, “My mad skills, of course.  I’m as suave as-”

“A platypus?”

Jim faltered.  His grin was replaced with a questioning frown and his arms lazily fell from their gesturing poise, “Aren’t they extinct?”

Uhura pursed her lips, “Exactly.”

“Hey!  That’s not very fair!”

A withering look was directed his way, before Nyota completely turned her back to him so she could press her communicator to her ear.  “Did you get my message?” If Jim strained, he could faintly make out the baritone of whoever she was talking to, “Uh-huh… uh-huh… No!  I mean, yes…but no.  Not quite.  Well…kind of?  I know, the human language is not all-encompassing.  Just…for me?” More baritone mumblings, “Really?  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  You have no idea what this means to me, really.”  She giggled, but not without throwing a glare towards Kirk and holding a hand out in his direction which distinctly said _Stop doing whatever it is you’re doing that you think I don’t know you’re doing, but really do._ In that case, the ‘thing’ just happened to be throwing wadded up pieces of paper at her back.  “You won’t regret it, I promise!  And I don’t even care that promises are illogical either!”

She took the comm from her ear, pressing a slim finger to its surface just before turning to Kirk with a particularly accomplished smirk.  “You look rather proud of yourself.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Uhura gleefully smiled.  Almost too gleefully.

Kirk raised an eyebrow; his interest was instantly piqued.  “Oh?”

“You’ll owe me for years after this.”

The doors to the lab slid open.

“Oh, sounds exciting.  What'd he do this time?”

Both Uhura and Jim turned, neither quite surprised to find Gaila entering the room with a sway in her step.  She held two steaming mugs in each hand and had a sort of concentrating look on her face as she managed to maneuver her way down the steps without spilling anything.  Jim was definitely impressed.

“It's not what Jim did, it's what I did."

Gaila hummed, "Then what did you do?"  

"Essentially win his bet for him.”

Jim groaned, “Seriously Uhura, I think I’d rather get mauled by a mountain lion than go on a date with that douche-nozzle.”

Gaila smirked as she passed one of the mugs off to Kirk and the other to Uhura.  Of course, she just couldn’t resist planting a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek when she passed the mug, effectively making Kirk want to gag.  Ew; feelings.  "Oh, right.  The mysterious bet with mysterious conditions," She turned to Jim.  "You still haven't told me what you get if you win.  I'm curious."  

Jim and Uhura shared a look, which thank god Gaila didn't catch.  It was...complicated.  Because it wasn't exactly like they could just simply tell Gaila that if Jim won then Uhura would have to cheat for him.  Not when cheating was essentially equitable to hacking into Gaila's e-mail and using it to upload Jim's subroutine into the academy's system.  Which was probably why Jim hadn't mentioned that particular detail until later, once the bet had already been made.  No way Uhura'd ever agree to something like that, practically manipulating her own girlfriend.  

But a bet was a bet.  A promise a promise, so Uhura simply smiled and shrugged, "The answers to one of Commander Spock's finals."  Which technically wasn't a lie.  It was kinda the truth.  Y'know, if you squinted your eyes and tilted your head to the side in just the right way, while hopping on one foot and spinning yourself in circles until you were dizzy enough to faint.  Maybe.

Gaila tilted her head to the side, shooting Jim a curious look.  "I didn't know you were taking one of Spock's classes."

But Jim, who had always been rather quick on his feet, just shrugged.  He wasn't even slightly fazed. "I'm not.  But, according to your wonderful girlfriend over there, he is the one who created the final for Intro to Xenolinguistics class.  I guess laziness finally got the best of Ramirez."

"Makes sense," There was a puase as Gaila gave Kirk a once-over and a wry chuckle, "You must really want those answers, huh?"

"Damn right.  I'll fail without them."  He paused for just a moment, as if a sudden thought had just struck him.  "But in hindsight, I could probably live to fail a class or two.  I mean, Spock's just so... Ugh.  Failing would be worth it, I think."

“Don’t think of it like that, Jim!” The redhead turned to him with a perky grin, before finally plopping down next to him with an _oomf._  “Think of it like exploring the great unknown.  It’s why you’re in Starfleet, right?  Well, this is just another form of exploration.  And afterwards you can tell me all the dirty details.  Is it true that once you go Vulcan you never go back?  Are their testicles really on the inside of their bodies?  Is Vulcan kissing an actual thing?  They’re all very important questions.”

Jim opened his mouth almost immediately to protest, look almost a smidgen stern before Uhura completely cut him off.

She gave them both a chiding look.  And she set her mug down on the nearest table so she could cross her arms over her chest, which really only completed the effect.  “Oh god, now you’re both sitting too,” She turned to Kirk, “Didn’t I already tell you to get up?”

He shrugged.  “Probably.”

“Ugh,” Uhura groaned, as if the entire thing was such a bother and Jim was such a burden – mostly because both of those things were completely and utterly true. “Of course I did.  And of course you didn’t listen.”

“Why do you want me to get up again?” Jim asked around a swallow of coffee.

“Because,” She began as if it were completely obvious, even though it completely wasn’t.  “I’m calling a meeting.”

Gaila tilted her head to the side.  “A meeting?”

“Like, a group meeting?” Jim asked, because he wasn’t doing any better than Gaila was when it came to levels of confusion.

Uhura conceded with an inclination of her head, “You could call it that,”

“Right,” Jim snorted, “And this is going to help me seduce that infallible Vulcan of yours how?  Are we gonna have a group pow-wow?  Sit around a metaphorical campfire, hold hands and sing _Kumbaya_ until inspiration strikes one of us?  Oh, oh, oh!  I know,” He turned to Gaila with mock enthusiasm, playfully hitting her knee in the process, “We can braid each other’s hair!  I wonder, do you think Spock would like a French braid or a Fishtail better?”

“Fishtail,” Gaila nodded.  She took a drink from Jim’s mug, somehow managing to keep her expression completely serious as she continued, “Definitely fishtail.”

“I hate you both.”

Which really didn’t encourage any helpful responses.  Uhura watched as Gaila gave Jim this _look_ and Jim gave Gaila this _look_ in return, each look suggesting that they felt as if they had accomplished something.  The two bumped fists with a snicker, even as Uhura rolled her eyes and made a noise in the back of her throat that was both frightening and disgusting, but effective in conveying her annoyance.  Because apparently even learning Klingon had its advantages as - like acquiring the ability to make disgusting, throaty noises that sounded like hacking and generally tended to scare the ever living shit out of most normal people.

Unfortunately, Gaila and Jim were not most normal people.

Which was probably why Uhura was thankful when the doors to the language lab slid open again with an audible _whoosh_.  She was seriously getting really tired of people’sshit.  No, make that _everyone’s_ shit.  Then again, when she saw who exactly it was entering through the entryway doors, she began to seriously doubt how much of a reprieve she would legitimately be getting.  Probably not much of one.

It was fifty-fifty, she figured.

“Cadet Uhura,” Spock acknowledged with a nod.  He stood in a parade rest, his eyes surveying the room in what seemed to be in a rather detached manner.  “Cadets Vro and Kirk.”

“Hey, commander!” Gaila called with a cheery smile, despite having never actually talked to him.  But she had heard of him, and that had to count for something.  Right?

Jim, on the other hand, just kind of stared.  He seemed to be shocked, what with the way his eyes were squinted and his mouth was hanging a little open, and to be honest, it wasn’t a very attractive look on him.  Then again, according to some, no look was attractive on James Kirk.

“Excellent,” Uhura clapped her hands together and beamed at her three victims.  “Now we just have to wait for Leonard.”

“Wait.” Kirk’s hand raised, as if he were five again and was really eager to answer the question on the board.  Except in reality there was no board and the question in play was Spock.  Preferably, the one that revolved around _what the fuck is going on here?_  “What is _he_ doing here?”

“What do you mean what is he doing here?  I called him here.”

Spock took a step forward, “If it makes the Cadet uncomfortable, I have no qualms leaving.”

“No,” Uhura sharply – almost too sharply – spoke.  “You are not going to move a muscle.”  She motioned for Spock to stay exactly where he was, before directing a glare in Jim’s general direction.  “And _you._ What is wrong with you?”

“But… I just thought…” Okay, _now_ Jim was confused.  And really wondering what the hell Uhura was playing at.  “You said that we were…that…” He spared a look towards Spock, unsure how to skate around the elephant in the room, so to speak.

“Oh,” Uhura said with a nod of understanding.  Jim let out a breath of relief.  “Well, you were wrong.”

“But you just said-!”

“I know what I just said, Kirk.  God, don’t be such a narcissist, not _everything_ is about you.”

“But…” Jim groaned, “Okay, now I’m really, _really_ confused.”

Spock turned to Uhura, pleasantries exchanged and polite inquiries given as Gaila turned to Jim to jokingly pat his shoulder in a gesture of mock consolation.  Jim of course glared at the redhead, who snickered in return like the imp she was.  

Spock’s brow minutely furrowed, just enough to show confusion but enough to actually count as a legitimate display of emotion.  “Is there something I should be aware of, Nyota?”  

Uhura’s smile was almost saccharine in response, “Besides Jim being a narcissistic idiot?  Nope.”

“Hey!”

The Vulcan inclined his head and, like Nyota, completely ignored Jim’s cry indignation, “That is a fact which I have become disturbingly well acquainted with in recent days.”

“Aren’t we all?” Spock briskly turned towards the new voice, eyebrows raise in simultaneous curiosity and surprise at finding someone standing in the doorway, someone who he knew had not been there five seconds earlier.  Faintly, the Vulcan recognized this newcomer as one of the cadets who worked in the academy’s medical clinic, but aside from that the recognition was barely even there.  He did not know a name or a story, or anything but a brief face in the crowd.  He was Human, of course, and was shorter than Spock but taller than Jim.  A sour expression adorned his scrunched face and the smell of whiskey seemed to rest on his breath.  “Leonard McCoy.  I don’t know you, but I do know I like you.”

Spock forced himself not to grit his teeth, to keep his expression neutral when Cadet Kirk groaned and looked over the ledge at the newcomer.  “You’re just saying that because he thinks I’m a narcissistic idiot.”

“And that,” Spock noted that the finger being jabbed in Kirk’s direction was almost accusing in nature.  How curious, “Is good ‘nough reason for me any day.”

“You know what, Bones-”

“Okay, ladies, that’s enough!” Uhura called over them both.  She brought her hands together in an assertive clap and gave a smile that had a distinctly sharp edge.  It was more vicious than anything, more determined than it was cheery, more persistent and biting than genuinely joyous, and it easily conveyed the message that anyone who didn’t shut up and listen would have their ass handed to them.  Possibly on a silver platter.  “Now, I think we all know why we’re here.”

Gaila cocked her head to the side, “We do?”

Uhura ignored her; rude.  “We’re here because of one very important, life-altering, word-shattering, apocalypse-kickstarting word; Christmas.”

Immediately Kirk’s hand shot up, waving in the air as a cheeky grin lit up his face.  Instinctively, Uhura was tempted to ignore it, the only reason she didn’t was because Kirk was Kirk and she was not in the mood to deal with his pestering. “Yes, Kirk?”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?”

“No.”

Jim tilted his head to the side, “But-”

“No.”  She sent him a deadly look, “Now shut up.  As I was saying, Christmas is a little over a week away and unlike the gloriously grand prediction of James T. Kirk, everyone,” The mentioned grand predictor turned to wave, only to be stopped when Uhura kicked him in the shin and Bones threatened the wrath of a million hypos via death glare. “We’re probably going to be stuck here.  In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that.  Now, good news is that the storm will probably have moved Eastward by tomorrow, bad news is that the ice will probably stick around for a lot longer than that.  Go Global Climate Change,” She said with so much snark that it was palpable.  She even gave a strained smile and a mini fist pump which might as well have had a sign to along with it that read _Fuck Humanity,_ as a wave of soft chortles and distinctly amused chuckles passed over the room _._ “But, inconvenient weather patterns or not, Christmas is Christmas and the day I don’t celebrate Christmas is the day I’m either dead or senile - take your pick.  I don’t know about any of you, but it’ll take a whole _hell_ of a lot more than a little motherfucking ice to keep me from enjoying the most joyous holiday of the season, okay?  Okay.”  

Finally, with her speech over Uhura pleasantly smiled and held her palms out for feedback, as if she actually, kinda cared about everyone else’s opinion.  Which she didn’t, because even if she had to pull them by the hair and drag them kicking and screaming, they were celebrating Christmas goddamnit.  End of story.  “So, what do yous guys think?”

McCoy, who with an exhalation of breath leaned back on his heels and shrugged, “Whatever makes the lady happy.”

“Wait,” Gaila raised her hand and, remembering her manners from, like, Kindergarten, waited until Uhura gestured towards her to speak, “Can I wear my sequin dress?”

The same Uhura who skeptically squinted her eyes the second the question was out of her mouth.  “Which sequin dress?” Because, honestly, she could never tell.  They all looked the same to her.

“The one that looks like a Christmas tree.”

“Oh, you mean the one you wore to last year’s Winter Gala and in doing so practically flashed everyone there?”

Gaila grinned, “Yeah, that one!”

“No.” She rolled her eyes, even as Kirk grinned at Gaila and the pair high fived.  She also sighed, but then quickly willed herself to ignore it.   _Just ignore it, Nyota._ Maybe if she repeated it enough times it’d actually work.  Yeah, right.  Fat chance of that ever happening. Especially not when Kirk raised his hand and - _oh god._

She gave up. “Yes, Kirk?”

“Can we give this mission of ours a cool name?  Like the ones in spy movies.  Personally, I like Operation: Black Lung.”

“What?” Uhura asked, tone and expression a wonderful battle of bafflement against annoyance before the annoyance finally won out.  She shook her head, “You know what?  Never mind.  No.”

“But-”

“No.” With a sigh she turned to Spock, because sometimes she swore to god he was the only other sane person on Earth anymore.  Not even her own goddamned girlfriend, for fuck’s sake, was _completely_ normal.  Or even slightly normal.  Or, really, anywhere near normal.  “What do you think, Spock?”

The Vulcan gave a contemplative inclination of his head, “I believe I find the idea of undertaking such a task amenable.  I find the opportunity to observe Terran behavior while in a closely-knit, group setting during a holiday to be one I quite anticipate.”

Which wasn’t exactly the right thing to say, if Bones had anything to say about it.  And he did, if the way he sputtered seconds later said anything.  His face was a little redder than usual, Jim noticed with a smirk, and his expression was definitely grumpier than usual.  Impressive.  “Now, wait just a minute!  We’re not some,” He expressively gestured to the room of the people, to the _humans_ gathered around, “Scientific experiment for you to play with!  We’re not lab rats, you heartless bastard!  This-”

“Okay!  That’s enough!” And if Uhura’s smile was a little strained when her hands came together in a sharp clap, then no one mentioned it.  “Thank you, Spock.  I’m glad you’re amenable to it,”  She sweetly said, before turning on McCoy.  Her hands were resting on her hips and her head was tilted to the side and her lips were pursed and everything; oh snap.  “Leonard, it’s the season of giving not the season of bitching, got it?”

“Now-”

“ _Got it?”_

“Uh…” McCoy rubbed the back of his neck, his expression a little more sheepish than he’d ever like to admit.  “Yeah.”

“Good.”  And the smile was back.  Good that woman was frightening as fuck.  “Now hug it out.”

The responses were simultaneous;

“Whoa, now sweetheart, I’m not-”

“Nyota, I do not think-”

Both responses which quickly died the second Uhura gave them withering looks.  “Hug.  It.  Out.   _Now.”_ She unsympathetically demanded, not caring how flustered Leonard seemed or how uncomfortable Spock looked.  It didn’t help that her expression was one of rigid solitude and her stance rigid and demanding; no amount of begging, weedling, or crying would make her change her mind.  Ever.  

But even she smiled and snickered behind the palm of her hand when the Doctor and the Commander actually did end up embracing.  And it actually did end up being one of the most awkward and stiff and uncomfortable embrace in the history of embraces.  It was priceless.  And officially recorded, if the flash she saw out of the corner of her eye was what she thought it was.  Which it was - Jim taking a picture with his PADD and Bones barking that it better not end up on the academy webpage.  It probably would.  

Uhura gave one last snicker before turning to a still chuckling Gaila and a cackling Jim, the smile playing along her lips not too far off from theirs.  From the sound of things, McCoy and Spock were still embracing, but she ignored it in favor of more important matters.  “Now, you two.  It isn’t Christmas without Christmas music and right now, we don’t have music so that needs to change.  And I mean   _Christmas music,_ okay?  As in, by the end of the week I better be ready to literally kill someone if I hear _Santa Baby_ ever again.  If not, then you two obviously fucked something up.”  She typed something into a PADD that, from Jim’s point of view, seemed to have come from fucking nowhere.  “I’ve sent a list of must-have songs to your PADDs.  Do whatever it is you two do, work your engineering magic, but I want the PA system blaring with the stuff, got it?  Make it obnoxious; if we’re not sleeping, then someone better as hell be singing how all they want for Christmas is me, preferably Micheal Bublé.  Okay?  Okay.  Now go.”

Gaila and Jim hopped up to a stand almost immediately, and instantly began talking all the various ways they could wire the P.A. system to fit their needs.  Uhura didn’t understand a word of it, but it at least sounded like they kinda knew what they were doing.  Naturally.  By the time they had a rough plan at least thought of, Uhura had already turned and was speaking to Bones.  Which was a good thing, because that meant she was too busy to notice Gaila and Jim and the odd handshake they had become intricately wrapped up in; it was the one that involved lots of fist pumps and hand movements and ultimately ended in a fist bump.  Yeah, that one.  They were called bro-shakes, apparently - or that’s what Kirk called them - and yeah, they were fucking awesome.  If she were still looking, Jim seriously imagined Uhura would’ve sighed and shaken her head and probably pinched the bridge of her nose, but thankfully she was too busy focusing on Bones to do any of that.

Bones, who was noticeably standing on opposite side of the room from Spock.  Golden.  Just, golden.  Briefly, Jim stuck out his tongue at the doctor from behind Uhura, who was explaining something about some storage closet on the second floor that probably (thankfully) didn’t involved Jim.  He waved his PADD in the air behind Uhura in a taunting fashion, oh - y’know - the same PADD which had just captured a fairly incriminating and very embarrassing picture of a certain ever-grumpy Cadet and a certain hard-assed Commander.  Could someone say bribery?

“C’mon, let’s go," Gaila said before Jim could do anything particularly stupid.  "I wanna get started on wiring the P.A. system.  Sounds fun, huh?"  She ecstatically beamed and wriggled her eyebrows, before walking around Jim and behind Uhura to get to the doorway.  Kirk followed, but only because she was practically dragging him.

The fact that Bones legitimately looked five seconds away from leaping across the room to wring his roommate's pretty, little neck might’ve been a little bit of a motivator too.  But only just a little.

“Oh, and Jim?”  Uhura just managed to catch him as he was seconds from leaving, her head popping up from her PADD right as one foot made it through the doorway and the other was almost there.  Thankfully he managed to turn around in time, with eyebrows curiously raised and a hum on the tip of his tongue.  

Uhura was smiling was sweetly at him - too sweetly, in fact.  Sweetly enough that his stomach did a tiny drop, as if expecting something malicious.  “When it comes to baking-”

“Whoa, let me stop you there.  Have I ever told you the story about that one time I burned down my mom’s entire kitchen making breakfast?  Because if not, I totally did.  And I was making toast.  And I burned down the entire fucking kitchen.  Let that sink in.”

Uhura sighed, one eyebrow carefully raised in a challenge as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot against the ground.  “Are you done?”

“Uh...yeah.”

“Good,” She sharply, almost wryly, quipped. “Because if you would have bothered to let me finish then you’d know that I’m going to be the one doing the baking.   _However,_ to bake you need ingredients.  And to get ingredients you either have to replicate them or buy them.  And seeing as it’s pouring out there we’re obviously not going to buy them, which mean-”

“But we don’t-”

Uhura threw him a sharp look, “Let.  Me.  Finish.  It means we’re going to have to replicate them, but to do that we need replicating chips for each and every ingredient.  Obviously, those aren’t chips we have.  Which means we need a programmer - or programmers - to individually program the chips for all the ingredients I need.”  She gave a sharp smile.  Jim had an incredibly bad feeling about it - and rightfully so.  “And well, who better to do that than the academy’s very finest, Jim Kirk and Commander Spock?”

Jim’s eyes widened and suddenly it clicked, for him at least.   _That_ bitch.  He faintly felt someone nudge him in the ribs, probably Gaila, but ignored it.  Because he knew what it meant.  He knew what what Uhura was doing.  What she was playing at.  Because believe it or not, Jim wasn’t new to programming chips (the first time had happened on a whim when he had been left alone in Iowa, without money and without a car, and had had an incurable craving for chicken nuggets.  The most recent time had happened just last week, after Bones had bitched about Georgia peaches not being an option on their personal replicator about fifty times too many) and because of that he _knew_ what it meant.  It meant time and work and effort and what would probably be hours upon hours of sitting in a room, probably alone, with Spock.   

_That bitch._

Kirk inaudibly groaned, before biting the inside of his cheek and refusing to say anything.  Mostly because Spock was probably in the middle dreading this just as much as he was too, but also because Uhura was one scary motherfucker.  She was probably gonna give them some goddamned list too and it probably wouldn’t be a small list either.  It’d probably be some bigass, ever-growing, never-ending list that’d be so bigass, ever-growing and never-ending that they’d probably be lucky if they actually were able to finish by Christmas.  

He shook his head and sent a dry, almost spiteful, smirk towards Uhura.  He should have probably been angry, he realized.  Or at least a little put-out, but he wasn’t.  Instead he felt an odd mixture of pride and irritation and disbelief and wry humor because _that bitch._

That wonderfully devious, awesomely crafty _bitch._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More set-up. Oh, well, what can ya do?


End file.
